Save Yourself
by Echidna's Pen
Summary: Dean hated going to Dr.Carrington and having to deal with her annoying brat of a daughter. 19years later,Amy turns out to be the key to saving him,as long as he keeps the urge to smother under wraps. Banter, love/hate relationship, after S3. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Title: Save yourself

Rating: M or MA, for language, violence and sex.

Author: Echidna

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Amy and I'm making no profit out of this.

Summary: Who would have thought that a children's game in his youth would be the key to saving his soul? Set after Season 3 finally, spoilers up to that point. Banter, love/hate relationship, Dean/OFC.

**Chapter 1**

_Nineteen years ago_

The distant combination high pitched giggling and rapid tapping of small feet barely registered in his mind as his hand leaned on the cold metal and he hesitantly pushed the weighty door open.

He'd been specifically told not to go downstairs by his father. The way it had been growled at him left no room for doubt on whether it had been an order or not.

After ten minutes of nervously pacing around, drawing circles on the Persian carpet in the living room while his brother and his new found friend raced around the massive household, his mind had begun to rebel against the instruction.

Taking one step at a time, he'd made his way to the basement. He'd clumsily scrambled to grab hold of the railing when something slippery had caused him to suddenly falter in his footing.

Looking down, even in the dark hues surrounding him, he'd immediately recognised the pool of thick liquid under his sneaker. Six years of travelling cross country on hunts had made him an expert in identifying blood. Even though he was only ten years old, the sight of it had ceased to bother him a long time ago. But this time is was different. His stomach turned, the acid content crawling its way up to the back of his throat, causing it to clench. Sure it was just blood, but it was his father's blood after all.

He couldn't help narrowing his eyes as the door opened and the the bright room unveiled before.

After a few procrastinating seconds they seemed to adjust to the new found brightness and he was able to see him. His father, shirtless, sat on a cold metallic table, his facial muscles contracting riotously while a figure leaned over him, its identity concealed by its position.

With its back turned to the door, all he could see was a messy bundle of curls cascading down its back. The shimmer of burgundy in the auburn locks contrasting with the long white coat it wore.

"You were lucky, John."

"Doesn't feel lucky."

His father's harsh and ragged tenor clashed with the soft feminine voice of the woman who was now reaching for a bit of gauze.

John hissed as the antiseptic-embedded tissue made contact with his injured shoulder.

"Sorry." She said apologetically. "I'll give you another shot of-"

"No."

She halted at his reaction.

"John, there's no point in letting you feel pain, if we-"

But he harshly cut her off again.

"No."

"It's just a local anaesthetic; it's no going to-"

"I said no."

"Ok." She reluctantly agreed. "Just a couple more minutes and I'll be done."

John nodded, unable to keep from letting out a sigh of relief.

The boy watched as she continued to work on him. When she picked up a syringe his hand was instantly on her wrist.

"It's just a shot of antibiotics." She explained.

He seemed to ponder the option for a couple of seconds before giving his silent consent by letting go of his grip on her.

She moved towards the IV and slowly injected the clear fluid into the system.

Almost immediately, John's demeanour changed, his muscles relaxing, causing him to slouch a little, his eyelids fluttering a couple of times. And that's when he saw him.

"What are you doing here?"

The ten year old boy froze as two pairs of eyes locked on him.

"I told you to stay upstairs and keep an eye on your brother."

John made a move to get off the table, but faltered. Closing his eyes, he clutched at the metallic surface for much needed balance before redirecting an accusing gaze toward the woman tending to his wound.

"That wasn't antibiotic." It wasn't a question, more of a statement.

Her lips curled slightly for a guilty smile.

"No, it wasn't." She admitted.

Her hands cocooned around him, helping him lay down as he gradually drifted into unconsciousness.

The sight of his father so helpless snapped the boy into action and he marched into the room demanding:

"What did you do?"

"It's ok Dean. Your father just needs to rest. He'll be fine." She assured him pulling a thick blanket over the now slumbering man.

Dean didn't know why. Maybe it was because his father had told him that she was going to help them, or maybe it was just the peaceful kindness irradiating from this woman's emerald eyes but, at that moment, he believed her.

"Go upstairs, Dean. I'll be up in a couple of minutes to fix you guys something to eat, ok?"

He nodded and giving his father one last glance he turned and walked out of the room.

He sat on the ground in the middle of the large library. He had to admit he wasn't a big fan of books and the floor to ceiling bookcases coating every wall irked him a little, but on the other hand he'd been fascinated by the artefacts and trinkets scattered across the open space, displayed in various glass casings.

He'd picked at every one of them; unfortunately, the only one that had been unlocked was also the less interesting of all. He'd much rather be holding the sliver platted gun to his right, but in stead he was stuck with this wooden box.

He'd popped it open to find a dusty old scroll and two intertwined rings inside.

Ignoring the jewellery he picked up the paper.

"What are you doing?" Her snooty and demanding tone caused him to jump up and snap into attention, directing his annoyed gaze toward the door.

Just under the threshold stood Bony Amy, as he called her, much to her exasperation.

With her mouth set in a chastising straight line she entered the room fully, coming closer. The red curls she'd clearly inherited from her mother, were trapped in two pigtails and bounced gingerly with each severe step she took towards him.

He threw her one last irritated sideways glance before returning to the scroll he held in his hands, intent on ignoring her.

"Amy? Where" gasp "are you?"

A breathless six year old Sam ran into the library.

Great! Now his little brother was going to merrily jump on the '_annoy Dean to death_' bandwagon.

_'Just great!'_ He thought, shaking his head.

"Go away." Dean growled, his eyes never abandoning the piece of paper.

Maybe if he didn't look at them they would just resume their playing and leave him alone.

"You can't touch that!" Amy practically ordered coming to hover over him.

_'So much for ignoring.'_

Still, he held onto his strategy and disregarded their presence completely, narrowing his eyes as he tried to make sense of what was written.

"It's in Latin." Amy informed him.

"I know that." Dean lied at Miss _'Know it all'_.

Why hadn't he paid more attention in Latin classes with his father? Oh, right! Cause they were boring.

"Dad's going to get mad." Sam joined in.

"Not if you keep your pie hole shut."

Dean let out of a frustrated sigh as the two younger children now surrounded him, each perched over one of his shoulders.

Taking a deep breath he began reading the words out loud.

It wasn't long before Amy was interrupting him.

"It's pronounced animae." She corrected eyes focusing on the two rings she'd picked up and now held in her tiny palm.

Dean continued and once again...

"Inplicare." She chirped absentmindedly, too absorbed in pulling at the two interlaced metallic loops to catch the death look Dean was throwing her way.

He hadn't spoken three more words before she cut him off again:

"Fatum."

"That's it!" He snapped making a move to snatch the rings from her hand, but she instantly fisted her fingers around them defeating his attempt. "Give me those." He ordered glaring daggers at her.

The tiny redhead girl, however, didn't seem threatened at all and instead seized the opportunity to grab the scroll from him.

"Hey!" He protested, but before he could make a move, the sneaky brat was already on her feet and scurrying around the room bellowing the words written on the parchment paper off the top of her lungs.

And the chase was on.

Sam sat tamely in the middle of the floor while the two children raced around the room.

Oh, they were going to get in trouble!

He watched as the two came to a halt, one on each side of the giant mahogany desk.

"Give me that!" Dean demanded.

Amy's response? Her tongue jutted out mockingly and Dean's eyes widened in anger as she continued to read from the scroll and the pursuit resumed.

It wasn't long before Amy was tackled to the floor and the two fell in a bundle of flapping limbs and loud curses.

"Guys, you shouldn't-"

"Shut up, Sammy!" The two said in unison as they tried to untangled themselves, ending up where they'd started, Amy with the rings and Dean with the scroll.

"A-ha!" He said triumphantly.

"I still have the rings." She pointed out haughtily.

"Not for long." As he spoke he managed to loop his index finger through one of the hoops while she held onto the other. "Let go." He commanded.

"You let go. This is my father's." She snapped back.

Disregarding her, he resumed where she'd left off.

"God, your Latin sucks." She pointed out, pulling at the ring she held.

He just merrily read on causing her to cringe at his terrible accent.

"Guys..." Sam meekly tried to step in but they ignored him.

Saying the last words Dean tugged at his ring and suddenly a metallic click echoed in the large room; the conjoined rings splitting and causing each child to plummet in opposite directions.

"Oh-oh." Sam mumbled wide eyed.

And for a moment all three stood perfectly still.

It didn't last long, though.

"You broke them!" Amy accused scrambling to her knees and crawling towards a dumbfounded Dean, seizing the opportunity to steal the ring from the boy's hand. "Oh my God, mom's gonna kill me."

She froze when she realised that no damage had come to either of the loops, the only difference being they were no longer intertwined.

"What the hell?"

Amy looked over her shoulder to find a confused Dean scratching his head.

"How did that happen?" He questioned.

"Amy? Sammy?" The familiar voice of her mother carried from the hall.

"Oh, shit!" Dean cursed before he and Amy jumped into action.

By the time Mrs. Carrington reached the library the separated rings and scroll were safely tucked away inside the box, which was placed in its rightful place and all she found were three apparently innocent children obediently perched on the couch grinning up at her.

Amy sat in the middle, sandwiched between the two Winchester boys, a book on her lap.

"Amy? What are you doing here? I thought I told you you weren't allowed in the library." Mrs. Carrington scolded.

"Sorry, mommy. I was just reading to the guys."

Frowning, the woman came closer and picked up the book her daughter had been holding. Checking its cover her brows furrowed further when she realised it was volume one of Shakespeare's complete works.

"You were reading Shakespeare?" Her left eyebrow rose high on her forehead as the two older children nodded emphatically.

Sam's lack of response caused her to direct her accusing gaze towards him.

"Are you sure, Sammy?"

He just stared bug-eyed up at her until Amy's foot connecting painfully with his shin caused him quickly stutter out the lie:

"Y-yes, mam."

She watched them carefully for what seemed like ages before she spoke again:

"I've made you something to eat. Let's go."

The moment she turned around Sam found himself the target of two pairs of menacing eyes.

Gulping dryly he jumped off the couch and scurried after Mrs. Carrington.


	2. Chapter 2

** Chapter 2**

Author's note: I know this is a small one and there is kind of an annoying cliffhanger at the end of this one, but I promise to try and get the next chapter out as soon as possible, as well as explain a few more details.

Have fun.

_ Present_

She ignored the frosty boards beneath her bare feet as she quickly made her way down the steps of the massive staircase. She'd just gotten off the phone with Bobby not two minutes ago and was barely able to put her silk robe over her nightgown before the doorbell had begun ringing incessantly.

Flipping on the light switch, at the bottom of the stairs, the entrance hall was lit and she checked her wrist watch to find it was a quarter to one in the morning.

Turning the knob she opened the door to reveal three men, the only one she recognized – Bobby – but her attention was quickly directed at the one in the middle.

Unconscious, his blood soaked shirt and jeans were ripped to shreds to reveal hints of deep gashes running along his torso and legs. In a Christ like stance, his head lolled lifeless over his chest, his arms were spread out enabling him to be propped up by Bobby on one side and a tall, young man with bloodshot eyes on the other.

In her line of work of patching up injured hunters she'd seen her fair share of desperation, panic and terror plastered on people's faces, but this man took the prize.

She knew better than to waste time asking questions so she just stepped back and allowed them to walk inside.

"Follow me." She said quickly guiding them down a flight of stairs; her hands coming up to wrap her hair in a dishevelled bundle at the back of her head.

The three followed suit and in seconds they were in a large sterile room lined with all sort of medical paraphernalia.

"Put him on the table." Her voice was oddly calm considering the situation, her demeanour professional and composed as she went about the room picking up whatever she needed.

Unashamedly stripping her robe, she quickly replaced it with a long white coat.

With a pair of scissors she effortlessly discarded what was left of the unconscious man's clothes, pausing for a second when the extent of his wounds was finally revealed.

"What did this?"

Her question remained unanswered by both men.

"Black dog?" She offered as she turned on the monitor and a steady beeping sound echoed in the room signalling a rapid heartbeat.

"Hellhounds."

She froze momentarily at Bobby's reply.

Hellhounds? And he was still alive? How?

Shaking her head she put a halt to the flood of questions that assaulted her and concentrated on the task at hand.

"BP's 70 over 40. He's in hypovolemic shock." She stated simply. "Bobby, back cabinet, top shelf, you'll find IV bags, get me two of those and one O neg from the cooler."

She didn't have to say it twice. By the time she'd placed an arterial line the bags were hanging from the IV system and the clear fluid was being pumped into the dying man's body.

"Come on, Dean." She heard the young man mutter between clenched teeth.

Ignoring his pleas she broke out the surgical kit.

Checking the blood pressure once more it was clear that he was still bleeding. There was no time.

"Is he going to be ok?"

Her eyes never left her patient, even as the young man came closer and continued to question her.

By the forth question she snapped:

"Bobby, get him out of here!"

"No!"

"Come on, Sam. You have to let her work."

"I'm not leaving my brother." Sam insisted stepping closer to the improvised operating table.

"Bobby..." She warned all the while diligently exploring the wounds in search of the bleeding vessel.

"Sam, you have to leave." Bobby practically begged him, pulling at his arms, but Sam wouldn't budge.

"No!"

His guttural scream caused her to finally look up. She craned her neck to meet his glassy eyed stare and immediately knew there was no point in arguing.

"You wanna help?" She questioned setting her mouth in a severe straight line, a habit she had ever since a little girl.

Sam nodded.

"Put on some gloves."

Without another word they went to work.

After three hours of labouring over the seemingly lifeless body, she finished stitching up the last of the cuts.

It had been hell, but she'd managed to stop the bleeding. Now it was up to him. There was nothing else they could do except wait.

Stepping away from the table she stripped her gloves and her now blood soaked coat throwing it into a bin nearby and coming to stand next to Bobby, while the young man remained vigilant over the sedated patient.

"Is he going to make it?" Bobby asked after a couple of silent minutes.

"It's not looking good. But who knows?"

Her eyes remained focused on the two young men in the middle of the room.

"How'd he manage to escape the hellhounds?" It was her turn to question, her arms protectively crossed over her chest. "And why aren't they barking down my door?"

"Long story."

Her emerald eyes glanced at the experienced hunter, trying to read him. She'd known him since she was a little girl; back when her mother was the one piecing back up hunters and she was still in pigtails. The last time she'd seen him had been 4 years ago, she'd been fresh out of medical school. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but she knew certain things never changed and by the look on old Bobby's face, this was no time to go into details.

"You and the boy can take the two guest bedrooms on the ground floor. I'm going to get a shower." She was about to leave when she turned to add: "He should get some rest." And with that she was gone.

She couldn't contain the yawn as she took the familiar route down to the basement. The closer she got, the louder the heartbeat and peripheral saturation monitors got.

Well, his heart was still beating, that was always a good sign.

Running her hands through her wet hair she stepped inside to find the tall man sleeping on the chair next to her patient.

Careful not to wake him she walked over and checked the last blood pressure read outs.

_ 'A 100 over 50, not bad at all. Sats are good too.'_

She had to hand it to this hunter - he sure had a will to live.

She went through the routine of checking his vitals, the heartbeat, his breathing; it all seemed fine, all things considered.

Picking up her pen-shaped light she pulled up his eyelids to check his pupils and suddenly her heart drummed a little faster. Apparently, so did the patient's as the ECG monitor, which until now had signalled a normal sinus rhythm, drew out a couple of extra-systoles.

_ 'That was freaky._' She noted in her thoughts before returning to what she had been doing, but as she tried once more, the same thing happened.

_ 'What the hell?_' She wondered, taking a step back to compose herself.

"Is something wrong?"

"Jesus!" She cursed jumping back. "You scared the hell out of me!" She panted at the young man who supposedly had been sleeping but was now up and standing in front of her on the other side of the table.

"No, it's ok. I-I'm fine." She managed to blurt out between gasps.

She could still feel her heart racing under the palm of her hand as it rested over her chest.

"Is everything ok with him?" He asked.

"Yeah. So far, so good. I was just going to check his pupils."

Stepping closer to the table she went for a third try and this time did her best to ignore the palpitations and the screeching of the monitor.

_ 'That's just a coincidence_.' She told herself.

She gulped when emerald met hazel green, and for the first time it hit her.

Three hours ago she'd been too busy fighting to save his life, her mind resorting to its usual strategy of turning every one of her critical patients into an anonymous specimen of the human species; just flesh and bones, heartbeat and lungs, tuning out everything else; no face, no identify, just basic human physiology.

Now, after the initial storm, her brain allowed her to add new layers to the person before her and she realised... she knew this man.

Looking up at the hunter standing before her his familiar features dawned on her.

The images coupled with the previously discarded information of the two men's names finally completed the puzzle.

"Sam?"

He nodded.

"And Dean?" She questioned tilting her head towards the comatose man between them earning another nod.

"Winchester?"

Sam frowned at that. How did she-

And then she revealed her smile - the perfect mishmash between wraithlike sweetness and devious mischief.

His eyes widened as suddenly the familiarity of his surrounding came to the forefront of his muddled mind.

"Amy? Amy Carrington."

Her grin grew wider.

"It's nice to see you, Sammy."


	3. Chapter 3

** Chapter 3**

The two sat in silence, the only thing breaking the stillness was the constant beeping coming from the monitors which echoed in the large, sterile room.

"So… you have any idea why this Lilith chick decided to skedaddle?" She finally asked.

"I don't know." Sam replied honestly.

He watched her intensely for a few seconds before turning his vigilant stare back to his slumbering bother.

He didn't really know why he'd told her everything. It wasn't like they'd been best friends as children.

They probably hadn't spent more than a couple of days together every two or three years. Last time he'd seen her he'd been ten while she'd been buried deep in her teen years and during his three day stay at her house along with his father and Dean he'd seen her for exactly ten minutes. Just long enough for her to say: _'Hi. How are you doing?'_ followed by a hastily mumbled. _'Gotta go.'_

He remembered finding it pretty odd and when he'd asked his brother about an explanation for her odd behaviour he'd simply chocked it up to hormones and the unavoidable weirdness that came with being a girl. According to Dean all girls were either bizarre or crazy.

That had pretty much been the extent of their relationship.

And now here he was, back in her basement, only this time, instead of her mother, it was Bony Amy tending to one of his kin, and in place of his father's it was his brother's life hanging in the balance.

He hoped against all hope that she'd turned out to be just as skilled in her profession as her mother. Apparently, according to Bobby and what little he could remember, her mother had become famous amongst hunters, that was until three years ago, when she eventually passed away from leukaemia, leaving Amy alone to pick up where she'd left off.

"Think it had something to do with the whole Anti-Christ superstar thing you've got going on?"

Man, she really didn't pull punches, did she?

"Honestly... I don't know." He let out a frustrated sigh and began to ramble. "I don't know anything. I don't know what happened, _why_ it happened, I don't know where Lilith is and why my bother's still alive, why the hellhounds haven't come after him..." He let his head fall limply in his hands as he supported his elbows on his knees. "I just don't know."

Her heart went out to him. Even at a very early age it had been clear the adoration Sam had harboured for his older brother. Even though Dean was always giving his lip and telling him to leave him alone and quit bothering him, the truth was Sam idolized him, just as Dean idolized their father.

She'd been saddened by the revelation of the old hunter's death.

Just didn't seem fair after almost a lifetime of saving people.

"Come on, you have to get some rest." She coaxed him, running a reassuring hand down his broad back.

"No." He shook his head.

"Sammy, you must be exhausted and you're covered in blood. At least take a shower, you're starting to stink up the place." She argued, trying to lighten the mood but Sam didn't move.

"I promise I'll stay here, I won't leave him alone." She assured him and he finally looked sideways to meet her eyes. "I'll be right here." She repeated. "Go on."

Relenting, he forced his mangled body into action, hissing as his joints and muscles protested against the effort.

She watched as he glanced one last time at Dean before leaving.

Letting out a deep breath she ran both hands across her damp hair. Her conversation with Sam had been so long it had given her auburn curls enough time to dry.

Getting up herself she checked her wrist watch before dragging her sore body toward her patient.

Dean Winchester. Who would have thought? All grown up... and dying.

"Not on my table." She guaranteed him.

Walking back to her small couch she sat down and rummaged through the pockets of her coat, digging out a pack of cigarettes. God, she really needed a boost of nicotine after a three hour surgery.

Lighting it up, she brought the cigarette to her mouth and took a long rewarding drag.

She needed to quit smoking, she told herself for the umpteenth time before exhaling the poisonous smoke.

They took turns, Amy, Bobby and Sam watching over a comatose Dean and the hours seemed to sluggishly drag by.

With her feet tucked under her thighs, a warm blanket draped over her legs, she sat on one side of the couch while Sam sat on the other.

A smirk crept to the corner of her lips when she saw his head bob a little as he began to nod off to sleep; exhaustion and the emotional rollercoaster of the last twenty four hours taking their toll on him.

Her eyes returned to her book until she heard the door open and she looked up to see Bobby walking it.

"Hey." He greeted softly noticing the slumbering young man on the couch.

She just smiled back.

"Want some?" He questioned handing her a cup.

"Coffee?"

"Black, no sugar."

She silently thanked him accepting the cup and taking a sip while he sat on the arm of the couch next to her.

"Any new development?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes turning to the EEG monitor, unfortunately recognizing the pattern that indicated a comatose state.

"No."

All they could do now was wait.

She fished out another cigarette earning a disapproving glare from Bobby as he took in the overflowing ashtray.

"Don't even start with me, Bobby." She warned him, making sure to take a long drag. "You guys are adrenaline junkies, I got nicotine. All things considered I'm pretty sure my nasty habit is less deadly than yours."

She did have a point.

"You should get some rest. I'll watch over him." Bobby offered.

"Nah. I'm ok. Just see if you can get Sam to get a decent night's rest. He hasn't slept all day."

"Neither have you."

"After my sleepless nights at the hospital I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

Without another word Bobby stood up, walked over to Sam and carefully placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Uh-What?!" He jolted to attention at the slight touch.

"You're going to bed, young man." Bobby informed him.

Sam was about to voice his protest but the older hunter cut him off.

"No buts. Let's go."

"I don't-"

"Sam..." Amy stepped in and he turned to look at her. "Go."

Albeit reluctant he got up and along with Bobby slouched his way out of the room and up the stairs.

With the book in one hand and a cigarette in the other Amy resumed her reading.

When she checked her watch she was stunned to realise that it was already two o'clock in the morning and four hours had rushed by.

It was time for her to administer another dose of antibiotics.

She got up and picked up what she needed from a nearby cabinet before walking over to the bed.

Working the IV system she injected the contents of the syringe into the saline solution and stared at the clear fluid; her eyes following the tubes down to the young man's neck before settling on his face.

The man laying in front her bore very little resemblance to the teenager she'd last seen. He'd definitely grown up.

Unaware of her actions, her hand came up to brush back a few tousled hairs away from his forehead and her ears registered the subtle alteration of the previously regular beeping sound.

All afternoon she'd been trying to chock it up to a coincidence, but the truth was that every time she touched him or got close to him there would be a change in rhythm of his heartbeat. It could be considered normal if not for the tiny detail that it only happened with her.

She'd paid close attention to the ECG when Sam had come up to him after lunch and there had been no change; same thing with Bobby.

Why her?

Unconsciously, she began twirling the silver loop around her finger and a long buried memory flashed before her eyes.

_ Saying the last words Dean tugged at his ring and suddenly a metallic click echoed in the large room; the conjoined rings splitting and causing each child to plummet in opposite directions._

She gasped, her hand immediately gripping the twin band she wore on a string around her neck.

_ 'No! It can't be!'_ She told herself.

It had been a joke... a child's game. Sure, they had both read the scroll and the rings had split apart but...

"Ah, come on..." She mumbled incredulous, forcing out a nervous chuckle.

Not him. Not Dean Winchester...

"You've got to be kidding me!" She said looking up as if to question a higher being. "It actually worked? And with him?"

Her protest was cut short when she looked at the EEG monitor and saw the change in the pattern that signalled his brain activity.

"Dean?" She tried dubious and caught her breath at the variations displayed on the small screen. "Dean." She repeated.

Another series of spikes and she could now feel her racing pulse in her neck.

She couldn't believe this was happening.

"Why me?" She grumbled.

Come to think of it...

"Why him?!" She directed her annoyed question at the ceiling. "I don't even like him... let alone-"

She shut up and her eyes snapped back to the comatose man in front of her when she felt him twitch.

"Dean?" She shook him lightly, but got no response; the EEG returning to its previously tedious pattern.

She shook him harder and... nothing.

As quickly as it had come it had gone.

After two minutes of pushing and pinching him she gave up.

She tried to go back to the couch and get some sleep, but failed miserably as the realisation of what could have happened nineteen years ago plagued her thoughts. She still refused to accept it, even though she had to admit it would explain a lot. All her problems with Michael, her inability to connect to him or anyone else she'd dated.

Michael...

He'd been perfect. Her mother had adored him and he'd practically been accepted in her household as one of the family, but every time the subject of moving to the next step in their relationship had come up she'd desperately tried to dodge the issue. She'd take extra shifts at the hospital, come up with different excuses just to put some space between her and Michael. Just long enough to make him forget about the topic.

Eventually, her inability to truly commit to the relationship had dawned on him, but he'd loved her too much to let her go. And so the two dragged on, ignoring the issue.

And then suddenly, for no apparent reason, she'd decided to break it off. It had hurt but, oddly enough, not as much as one would have expected considering they'd been together for almost eight years. She hadn't seen him since that day... the day they'd broken up exactly one year ago… yesterday.

Lost in her thoughts she found herself walked briskly around in circles puffing fretfully on her thirtieth cigarette of the day or night, depending on how you saw it.

She dropped her shoulders in defeat. She was tired, confused and she really didn't want to think about this.

It was just a coincidence... It had to be!

_ 'We could barely stand each other._' She noted in her mind while fidgeting nervously with the material on the bedside table.

Dean Winchester was a nuance. They'd taken a mutual disliking from the moment they'd met. One minute after being introduced he'd reached for her ponytails and pulling them bellowed at the top of his lungs '_Giddy up!_'

"Jerk!" She growled at the memory.

"Excuse me?"

She practically jumped out of her skin as her brain registered the groggy voice coming from her left and she turned dumbfounded to find a wide eyed, wide awake Dean staring back at her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"You're awake!" The moment she said it she mentally kicked herself for it.

_'Duh! Of course he's awake, he's talking to you, isn't he?_' She chastised herself. _'Way to state the obvious...'_ She rolled her eyes in her mind. _'Smooth, very smooth._ _Not dorky at all.'_

And then she frowned at the sudden realisation - she was worried about sounding smooth? Since when did she care what Dean thought of her? And-

_'Oh, he's talking again._'

"What?" She cringed at the weakness in her voice.

"Who are you?" He repeated staring up at her, causing her to immediately drop her gaze, and suddenly she was desperately trying to find something to busy herself with.

_'The IV! Just pretend you're checking the IV.'_

And that's what she did, attempting to look as unphased and professional as she could all the while ignoring her frantic pulse.

Her mind raced. He'd asked a question? Hadn't he?

_'Oh, right...'_

"I-I..."

Oh, for crying out loud! She was stuttering? Since when did-

She froze when in the midst of her inner turmoil her nose picked up a distinct smell. Unconsciously, she sniffed the air.

Was something burning? And by the way, where was her cigarette? She had been smoking, right?

Her eyes widened when she saw the lit butt planted in the middle of a rapidly expanding flame on the sheet covering Dean.

"Oh, shit!" He yelled when he finally felt the heat.

The two scrambled ineptly; hands and arms clumsily flapping and patting at the sheet until the fire was extinguished.

"What the hell, woman? Are you trying to burn me alive?" Dean yelled.

"Well, considering I saved your sorry ass I guess a little burn isn't that bad." She snapped back.

"Jesus!" He cursed between clenched teeth suddenly becoming aware of the searing pain in his gut and legs.

"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad!" She grumbled discarding the ruined sheet to the floor. "Don't be such a cry baby!"

Their eyes met and she realised the true source of his ailment were his hellhound-acquired wounds and not the burn.

Ignoring the twinge of guilt she went into full defensive mode.

She wasn't used to feeling this... thing... Anxious, confused and giddy all at once. Her senses seemed to be in overdrive. She couldn't stop her heart from beating erratically and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. She felt out of control and she didn't like it. She was always in control of her emotions. Always! This was unexplored territory she didn't know how to deal and as a result her response came out a little harsher than intended:

"Just quit moving or you'll open up your stitches."

"Try to avoid turning me into the human torch and I'll quit moving." He retorted arrogantly.

Their gazes locked once again and it took all of her determination to keep from looking away and hold her ground. She remained silent under his scrutinizing stare.

But there was only so much ogling she could take.

"What?!" She demanded doing her best not show her jitteriness and failing miserably at it.

"Still waiting for an answer." He replied; eyebrows snootily raised on his forehead.

"Answer?"

"Who are you? And where the hell am I?"

He scanned the room.

There was something strangely familiar about it, but he couldn't figure out what.

He was still too confused.

One minute he's tied up, suspended in midair, God knows where and the next he's here... with her.

Where had he seen her before? Was he dead? He shifted a little, bringing on another surge of agonizing pain. He sure didn't feel dead.

Wait! Was this hell? Was she a demon? Or worse... the devil?

He'd always thought the devil would look... well, a little more devilish - a couple of horns, decaying flesh, fangs maybe. He'd never really pictured the devil looking... gorgeous!

"You're not in hell, if that's what you're thinking."

She could read minds? He jumped back and instantly regretted it cringing.

"Shit!" He swore.

"I thought I told you to lay still!"

"Who the _hell_ are you?!" He shouted.

"I'll tell you if you just stop moving, you idiot!" She yelled back in his face.

"Look, lady, if you don't tell me exactly who you are in-"

"Dean!"

Dean's eyes snapped in the direction of the door to see his brother running towards him, Bobby trailing close behind.

Lost in his emotions, Sam threw caution to the wind and wrapped his arms around his older brother. After a second, his brain registered the yelp of pain coming from Dean and hastily released him from his deadly grip.

"Great! Just great!" Amy grumbled when she saw the red stain soaking through Dean's dressing. "Now I'm going to have to sew him back again. Thanks, Sam."

"S-sorry, Amy." The younger Winchester's remorse wasn't too convincing, but how could it?

Dean was back. He was too excited not to let it show.

"Wait!" Dean's neck jerked in the direction of the young woman hovering over him, who was now diligently inspecting his bandaged gut.

He gulped when her hand touched him, not out of pain but because of the sudden flip-flopping motion in his stomach.

_'What the hell?'_

"Amy?" He narrowed his eyes at her and the memory of a skinny, redhead teenager jumped to the forefront of his mind's eye.

"Bony Amy?"

"You cal me that again and I swear I'll let you bleed to death." She threatened glaring fiery green daggers at him.

And there it was again - flip-flop.

Man, she'd definitely grown up. He looked her up and down, taking in her appearance. Definitely all grown up!

_'And in all the right places, too.' _He noted_._

Both Bobby and Sam frowned. Why was Dean smirking?

The sly smile instantly dropped from his face when he caught the twin inquisitive looks directed his way.

Clearing his throat and ignoring the tingling feeling scattering over his body every time her fingers came into direct contact with his skin, he asked:

"What happened?"

Sam was about to reply when he saw the sudden change in Dean's expression. He didn't have to know him as well as he did to read the panic unexpectedly marring his features.

"What? What is it?"

"Dean..." Bobby's voice seemed distant, muffled by the growingly familiar howling sounds.

"Not again..." Dean breathed.

"What?!" Sam tried hard to catch his brother's terrified stare which was now directed at the door.

"Hellhounds!"

All three froze at the revelation.

"They're coming..."

Shit! They didn't have anything. No weapons, no magic herbs, nothing to ward them off. He was doomed.

He couldn't go through that pain, not again.

All four pairs of eyes locked on the door as the metallic structure swung open with a violent thump to let in the threat visible only to Dean.

They sneered and roared, closing in at a teasingly lethargic pace. They knew he was helpless. There was no way out. No escape as they circled their prey.

Momentarily frozen in place, Amy's mind raced, urgently searching for a solution as her nervous habit kicked in and she began twirled the silver band around her finger.

"No!"

Sam's frantic plea barely registered in her brain, suddenly overloaded with the craziest reasoning she'd ever had.

Looking at Dean, she found him dreadfully eyeing a blank spot just over his feet.

One of them was on the table.

Dean watched as the thick, blood-thirsty saliva trickled from its jaws down to his leg.

She'd never seen pure terror on someone's face until now. The sight of his facial muscles contracting, agonizingly distorting his features jolted her into action.

Yanking the string from her neck, it snapped under the pressure causing the silver ring to tumble into her hand and she quickly slid it into Dean's finger.

Its large paw rose high, pausing for a hint of a second before swinging down for a deadly blow.

His throat closed up, his eyes shut and he braced himself for the pain, but it never came.

After a moment, he hesitantly opened his lids.

They were still there. The largest of the hounds still looming over him, but it didn't move.

Holding his breath, Dean waited.

And waited...

Nothing.

It didn't move until...

The red orbs mechanically shifted to Dean's left and the hunter's gaze followed suit, finding the new object of the hound's attention - Amy.

And she was staring back at it. She could see them. Her expression left no doubt in his mind. She could definitely see it. But why?

"Amy?" He called tentatively.

"Y-yeah?" She stammered, eyes never leaving the hound.

Dean swallowed dryly before asking:

"What did you do?"

"Um..." She gulped before chuckling nervously. "Something incredibly stupid?"

"Dean? What's happening?" As his question remained unanswered, he called once more: "Dean?"

Eyes still alternating between Amy and the paralyzed hound he eventually replied:

"They've stopped."

"What do you mean they've stopped?"

Since when did a hellhound stop?

"I mean they're just fucking standing there!" He didn't mean to snap, but the whole '_hellhounds ogling Amy like she was an all you can eat buffet' _thing was making him edgy.

Dismissing the pain in his gut and legs he stood up and got off the table, all the while paying close attention to the hounds which, in turn, seemed intent on ignoring him.

"Get behind me!" He barked the order at Amy.

"Oh, right! Like you're going to be much of a hurdle for the little doggies." She jabbed with false bravado in a pathetic attempt to disguise her fear.

"Amy! Quit pissing me off and get behind me!"

She was about to say something but the smartass quip died in her throat when the hounds gradually began to move towards her.

"Oh, shit!" She breathed.

Maybe her plan wasn't that great after all.

_'Stupid conjoined souls theory.'_ She thought while the hounds drew closer.

Author's note: Evil cliffhanger... I know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

She braced herself, but refused to step behind him. She'd made her decision and she was going to stick by it. Why did she have to be so stubborn?

The two watched as the hounds stopped, their steely glares alternating between one and the other, as if trying to decide which one to pick.

Dean's brain barely registered the questions being yelled his way by Sam, the hounds and Amy remaining the only object of his attention.

This didn't make sense. Why the sudden interest in Amy? What did she have to do with the whole thing? The disturbing doubts plagued him.

They were hesitating, actually looking confused and then... they vanished.

"Where'd they go?" He turned to Amy. "Are they still here? Can you still see them?"

He watched as her eyes explored every visible corner of the room before meeting his.

"N-no. I think they're gone."

He held her gaze.

Wired and confused he forced himself to utter as calmly as he could:

"Amy...? What did you do?"

She just stood there, a guilty look plastered on her face as the silence spread between the two, growing until it became almost palpable.

"What the hell just happened?" Bobby's hoarse voice broke the stillness.

"They're gone." Dean replied never breaking eye contact with her.

"What?" Sam asked flabbergasted. "Why?"

"I don't know, but I think redhead over here might be able to shed some light on it." The accusing tone filtered into his voice as he kept glaring at her.

Motionless, her stomach clenched when all three inquiring pairs of eyes zoomed in on her. Under the intense scrutiny, her thumb went on autopilot and began worrying the thin band around her middle finger, drawing the older hunter's attention to it. Bobby frowned when he found a matching one wrapped around Dean's.

The wheels in his head turned, processing the information he'd subconsciously acquired during the last terrorizing minutes. He'd been so distracted with Dean's impending death that his brain, usually attune to the most minute details, had failed to integrate Amy's action. Until now.

As the background noise died down, the images flashed in front him - a string being snapped and Amy… sliding something into Dean's hand.

Dean was growing increasingly annoyed at Amy's lack of cooperation. Hellhounds didn't just abandon their target. He hated being in the dark about things.

For Bobby though, it all made sense, except one small detail.

Dean's mouth opened, but before he could say anything Bobby's calm voice prevented him from speaking:

"How'd you do it?" He questioned becoming the new focus of the group, allowing Amy to relax a bit. "In order for those to work Dean should have read the incantation too. And as far as I know, comma boy over here has been in _lala_ land since we brought him."

Huh? What the-?

Dean looked back at Amy who still sported the same guilty expression without a hint of confusion. She knew exactly what Bobby was talking about. Why the hell didn't he? Was he the only one out of the loop? One glance at a dumbfounded Sam told him that he was just as ignorant about this as he was. Judging by his brother's furrowed brow, Sam wasn't even seeing the loop, let alone be in it.

"He read from it." She finally spoke, her gaze uncomfortably dropping to the floor.

"When?"

She remained silent, eyes glued to the concrete. For some reason this was just too embarrassing.

Sam's head just bobbed from Bobby to Amy and back again.

"Amy..." Bobby coaxed, careful to keep any hint of blame from his voice.

"Nineteen-years-ago." She blurted it out so quickly it was barely perceptible.

Dean snapped. Ok, that was it! Now they were just doing the cryptic thing on purpose! This was _his_ life they were talking about!

He started off slowly, going for cool and sarcastic: "If you two wouldn't mind terribly, seeing as you are talking about _my_ life …" but ended up bellowing off the top of his lungs: "can someone just tell me what the _fuck_ is going on?"

Unknowingly, Sam nodded in agreement. A little information would be greatly appreciated right about now.

"The ring you're wearing..." Bobby started tilting his head towards Dean's left hand.

_'What? When did that get there?'_ Dean thought inspecting the silver loop.

"She's wearing one exactly like it."

Great! Now they were all looking at her again.

_'Please let me out of this horror movie..._' Amy grumbled in her mind.

Forcing on a plastic smile she raised her hand and sardonically wiggled her fingers.

_'Yeah, that's it, take a good long look. Be my guest. Remember now, Dean?'_

Nope. Nothing, still the same idiotic blank expression.

She rolled her eyes and sighed:

"God, you're dense!"

"Hey!" He objected with a scowl.

"Nineteen years ago your father got wounded on a hunt, came here and while my mom was patching him up you were snooping through my dad's stuff in the library. Remember?"

"Yeah." Dean's lie was obvious to every one including Sam who just shook his head.

For someone so slick, Dean sucked at lying.

"Since all the fun toys were locked away, you decided to play with a nifty wooden box. Inside were two rings." She pointed them out and continued. "Except they were looped together. You being the smartass you always were decided to read the scroll that came with them."

"Oh, right! And as I recall Miss _know it all_ here thought it was time for a Latin lesson."

"Your accent sucked, you were murdering the language!"

"Sweetheart," He said with mocking sweetness. "it's a _dead_ language."

Her reply was prompt:

"Doesn't mean you have to torture it. It's already dead."

Dean just made a face.

Ignoring the skirmishing couple, Sam vaguely remembered the events, but still failed to make any sense of it.

"So what's so special about these rings?" He questioned.

"They're called the rings of Ocellina, named after the Roman noble woman who commissioned them to a local mystic."

"But I thought those were just a myth." Sam said as he recalled the legend.

Dean however remained in the dark. Perfect! Now he was the only one loop-less.

"Apparently not." Amy grumbled.

"So what's so special about these rings?" Dean asked.

"Ocellina was obsessed with power and wanted to marry into the Imperial family, maybe even become empress. So she commissioned two rings. Legend has it that if two people read the incantation the rings would split and if worn by those same people would allow their souls to be joined."

"What? Like soul mates?" Dean scoffed.

"Pretty much. Except according to myth they never worked. Not then and not when Peter and Alice tried it."

Amy's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her dead parents.

"Let me get this straight. The rings connect the two souls?" Dean tried to understand. "Our souls?"

"As long as both of you are wearing those..." Bobby shrugged before adding: "...yeah, I guess. At least that's the way the folklore goes."

"That's why the hounds stopped." Everything became clear to Sam. "They couldn't take you because when she put the ring on you your souls locked together. They couldn't take yours without taking hers and they couldn't take hers because she wasn't part of the deal." Sam summarized.

"Bingo!" Amy exclaimed with false enthusiasm.

"So I'm stuck with her?!"

Amy's eyes widened in shock at his words.

"Gee, way to make a girl feel loved, Winchester." She sneered.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but no girl's tying me down." He leered at her snidely and her blood began to boil.

"Well, guess what, smartass? This _girl_ not only stopped you from bleeding to death but also from becoming a yummy Dean-shaped doggie treat so - shut up!"

"She does have a point, Dean." Sam pointed out.

"Shut up, Sam."

"You shut up." Sam retorted back.

"Ok, guys. I'd love nothing more that to stand here and listen to this riveting exchange of _shut ups_, but Dean's guts are about to spill on my floor." Amy noted putting on a sneering smile. "And I don't like cleaning. So, Dean, could you just get your ass on the table so I can sew you back up?"

Noticing the once white bandages covering Dean's gut were now sporting a brand new shade of crimson, Sam quickly nodded.

"I'll just go upstairs and cook up something for Dean."

Dean's eyes widened greedily at the prospect of food.

"Oh, yeah, I'm starving, Sammy!"

"No food."

His head jerked in Amy's direction.

"What?!"

"You had major abdominal surgery less than twenty four hours ago. You're not eating anything." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Like _hell_ I'm not!" He shouted ominously towering over her, but she stood her ground even even though she had to crane up her neck to meet his glare.

"You're not eating."

"Yes. I am!"

The two stood toe-to-toe staring each other down.

"You are going to remain on IV fluids for at least another twelve hours." She assured him.

"No. I'm not."

"Dean, maybe you should listen to her." Sam piped.

"But I'm hungry."

Amy pushed down the butterflies in her stomach at the sight of Dean's pout and concentrated on her job.

"No buts. Now get on the table." Amy commanded.

Grumbling something unintelligible under his breath Dean relented and did as he was told.

With the tension finally dissipating Bobby and Sam prepared to leave when Amy, who was now taking out her surgical kit, called:

"Oh, and Sam?"

He stopped and turned to face at her.

"Don't even think about it."

"What?"

She looked up.

"No sneaking food down here for your brother."

Damn, the woman _did_ read minds, both bothers thought.

"I-I wasn't-" He stammered.

"Yes, you were."

With a pair of scissors in her hand she began cutting at the bandages and Sam heard Dean protest as he felt the room:

"Hey, watch it!"

"Next time, don't go all knight in shining armour, cause, so far, the only damsel in distress here is you." She jeered taking off the dressing and discarding it to the floor next to the burned sheet.

He watched carefully as she injected the local anaesthetic and went about opening the surgical paraphernalia she needed to suture him.

After a couple of minutes she was ready and he barely felt anything as the needle pierced his damaged skin.

Well, not exactly anything. An exhilarating tingling sensation spread over his body causing his stomach to contract and his breath to hitch.

_'Get a grip on yourself, Dean_.' He told himself. _'It's just because of the rings_.'

What Dean failed to recall, or maybe chose to forget, was the fact that he hadn't been wearing the ring yet the first time he'd felt this.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

She distinctly remembered being really good at this. And fast. Why was it taking her so long to stitch him up?

'_Maybe because you're too busy trying to keep your breathing steady and your hands from trembling?_' The annoying part of her brain offered cheerfully.

_'I can do this. I can do this.'_ She mentally coaxed herself._ 'I don't care if he's staring at me. It just doesn't bother me.'_

He shifted and his left hand lightly brushed up against her elbow causing her throat to close up.

_'Nope._' In her mind she popped the 'p'. _'Doesn't bother you at all. Now hurry up and get this over with already. Oxygen, honey... quickly becoming an issue here!'_

Her hair was a few shades darker than he remembered. It still held little hints of crimson, but it was mostly auburn now. Even though her curls were trapped in a messy bun on the back of her head, the small number of loose corkscrew strings that framed her face gave away the shades of red.

He watched intensely, as if studying the wave-like motion of the locks as they occasionally swept against the column of her long, slender neck; the dark hues contrasting with the pale complexion of her skin. Unknowingly, his attention drifted up the long muscle that connected her collarbone to her jaw, tracing along its sharp features until it settled on her lips. He didn't recall her having such full lips.

Her teeth worried the bottom one as she concentrated on her task and he gulped at the rush of adrenaline that assaulted him.

She leaned in and the baggy jumper she wore brushed against his side.

_'Please don't do that.'_ He begged her in his thoughts when his body's reaction to her closeness threatened to become more obvious.

It only got worse when she let out a sound that seemed like a perfect blend between a sigh and a moan.

_'Definitely don't do that!_' He groaned inwardly.

What the hell was wrong with him? Yeah, he really liked women and his body was usually very attuned to them, reacting to their nearness, but he could easily control it, never losing his cool or cockiness in the process.

But right now, he reverted back to the pimpled teenager who had just awakened to the allure of the fairer sex and didn't know how to manage his emotions.

He couldn't help shifting when she leaned in further and his hand accidentally came into contact with the bare skin of her elbow.

The two froze at the trivial touch.

Had he felt that?

Pausing for a second, she tried to get her answer all the while keeping her gaze on the wound she was currently suturing.

Had she felt it too?

His eyes narrowed, attempting to get a read on her. He couldn't tell.

_'I can do this.'_ She repeated the mantra as she resumed suturing.

She would adjust to this new amalgam of feelings eventually. She was very good at controlling her emotions. Always had been. She still had a small problem with rage, but lust... not a problem. She could always manage that. And this wouldn't be an exception. All she needed was time to adapt and she would be back in control in no time.

Not that she was a control freak or anything. She just liked to always be in control.

She rolled her eyes inwardly. Who was she kidding?

_'Ok, fine! So I'm a control freak.'_

What was so wrong about that? Controlling meant that you could predict things and maybe, just maybe, prevent them from happening, keep from getting hurt. When was that such a bad thing?

"There, all done." She announced inspecting her work and looking very please with herself.

_'Oh, thank God!'_ He sighed as relief washed over him and he felt the tightness in his back subside as his muscles relaxed. Outwardly though, he didn't show any sign of being affected and even managed to grumble out a snide:

"Took you long enough."

She just shook her head, putting away the suturing material and picking up what she needed to dress him.

"Just gotta to get you new bandages and we're done."

_'What? More touching?'_

This wasn't good. Or actually, it was and there in laid the problem.

After disinfecting the injuries and placing a clean layer of gauze over them, she discarded her gloves. When she began wrapping the bandage around his abdomen, forcing her to bend over him for every single loop he braced himself, going completely stiff.

His jaw stiffened, his hands fisting at his sides when she accidentally leaned in a little closer and her chest rest over his stomach.

She was doing it on purpose and oh God, had he just felt something move... downstairs.

_'Aw, come on! You've got to be kidding me!'_

At that moment he was definitely fourteen again.

He cautiously glanced down and cursed when he realised that someone had disposed of his jeans and he was currently wearing a pair of slacks which would easily put him in a very embarrassing situation if she kept this up much longer.

He had to do something.

"Hey! Be careful!" It was supposed to come out as annoyed. He would have even settled for angry, but instead it had come out feeble and strangled.

Maybe she'd think it was because of the pain.

"Quit being such a big baby." She snorted back as the loops got higher, bringing her closer to him, her scent overpowering the smell of the antiseptic.

His nostrils flared and he gulped. It was certainly moving now. No question about it.

He had to put an end to this. Now!

"Here, I can do it!" He snapped preparing to sit up but the palm of her hand immediately pressed over his chest halting him.

Her eyes locked in on his bringing forth another powerful stomach spasm.

"Don't even think about! If you move again I swear to God, I am going to beat you over the head with a stick!" She threatened.

She was still touching him and as a result there was a two second delay in his witty comeback:

"I guess someone is still sticking to the bossy routine."

"And I'm glad to see you're sticking with wiseass." She retorted resuming her work. "Now stay put."

In under a minute he wiggled again. He couldn't help it. Why did she have to smell the way she did?

She stopped and glared at him.

"Do I need to mention the stick again?"

"You talking about the one permanently stuck up your ass?"

"That's it!" She raised her hands in defeat. "I can't take it anymore. You do it! I'm going to sleep."

"Fine." He snarled.

"Fine." She sneered back at him stomping away and gruffly picking up the blanket before plopping down on the couch.

"You're sleeping here?" He questioned clumsily finishing his dressing.

"I have no choice. Someone's gotta watch over your sorry ass." She grumbled, closing her eyes. "Goodnight."

He was supposed to sleep with her in the room?

"Goodnight, my sweetheart." He mocked.

"I'm not yours and don't call me sweetheart."

And with that the room was silent.

They both pretended to be a sleep, occasionally popping open a tired lid to check what the other one was doing.

Amy sighed. When was the whole adapting thing going to kick in already?

Shifting anxiously, he couldn't help the furtive glance at her seemingly slumbering form. Cocooned, with her knees bent and brought close to her chest he watched her intensely all the while struggling with the unsettling feelings the image evoked in his gut.

Man, he really hated magic.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Author's note:** And the awkwardness continues. Not much plot in this one. But I promise to make up for it in the next time.

Oh, and by the way, thanks for the reviews, guys. ;)

Enjoy!

The next couple of days she'd avoided her own basement like it held the plague. Sam had taken over sleeping downstairs after her miserably failed attempt to get some rest while laying five feet away from him.

She had limited her trips to the underground room to provide Dean with his doses of antibiotics which still meant she had to see him four times a day.

But now, she found herself forced to make one extra trip. It had been two days and she really needed to change his dressings. As much as she would have liked it she couldn't let Sam do it. So, she took a deep breath and ventured down the long flight of stairs.

When she entered the room, her demeanour didn't disclose any of her anxiety even though her heart did skip a beat when he looked up at her.

"Time for my shot already, doc?" His voice possessed the usual cockiness she was becoming gradually accustomed to.

"No. Time to change your bandages."

Not bothering to look at him she greeted Sam who was sitting on the couch.

"Hey, Sam."

"Hey, Amy."

Walking over to her patient she commanded in an even tone while lining up the material she needed on a surface next to his bed:

"Get your clothes off."

Dean gulped but did as he was told and when she looked up he had already discarded the garment and was half sitting, waiting.

She glanced down at his legs and added:

"Pants have to go too."

He caught himself just in time to keep his eyes from widening.

"What? Why?"

"I have to change the bandages on your thighs too." She explained with a hint of annoyance.

"No, you don't."

"Who's the doctor here?"

He grumbled something under his breath and began pulling at the strings of the slacks he was wearing when he suddenly stopped.

_'I'm not wearing any underwear!'_ He remembered in shock.

The image of her hands touching his thighs flashed before his eyes and...

"I think those bandages are just fine. No need to change them."

The words came out a little too hurriedly causing Sam to frown. Getting up he approached to join the couple.

"Yes, I'm sure you're very good at identifying the early signs of infection, but I still have to change the dressing. Now strip." She ordered.

His jaw fixed and he said defiantly:

"No."

Their eyes locked for their umpteenth stare down contest. It was becoming a nasty habit of theirs.

"Take them off." She tried to keep her calm.

"No." He repeated.

"Why not?"

"Cause I don't want to."

"Look, Dean, maybe you should-"

"Butt out, Sam." His eyes never left hers.

"Dean, why are you being so pigheaded about this? It's just a few extra bandages? What's the difference?" Sam insisted.

Dean remained unphased by his brother's questions and continued to stubbornly glare up at Amy. His throat began to close up when he saw a hint of a smirk tug at the corner of her lips and she spoke in her annoyingly haughty tone:

"Difference is he's not wearing any underwear."

The smirk turned into a full blown grin while his eyes bugged out. Sam on the other had furrowed his brows further.

Since when was Dean a prude about getting naked? And in front of a woman no less. If anything he was the exact opposite. He loved making women fidget with his lack of clothing. Truth was he didn't have much to be embarrassed about.

"What's the matter? Are we feeling a little shy?" She revelled in the opportunity to make Dean squirm.

She'd been the target of his ridicule so many times over the years it was refreshing to see the tables turned.

"It's not really that cold in here but, if you'd like, I can turn up the heat." She teased mercilessly.

Her mocking effectively snapped him out of the initial shock and he instantly slipped into his usual smug persona. Leaning in with a lopsided grin he started:

"Sweetheart..."

His voice sent a chill down her spine but her expression remained unaltered as he continued:

"...believe me when I tell you that, in that department..." He pointedly glanced at his crotch before leering back up at her: "I have nothing to be embarrassed about."

Her reply was automatic and just as cocky as his:

"Well, _honey_..." She bent down, bringing her face inches from his, her voice low and almost sultry: "You seemed to forget that..." She paused and his breathing mimicked the timing of her words as he held his breath. "...I've already seen you naked."

She raised her left eyebrow and threw a fleeting look down at his crotch before staring up at him and adding:

"Not that impressive."

With that she stood up straight and went about putting on her gloves.

Dean seemed to be making an attempt at impersonating a fish out of water, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, while a blushing Sam just looked like he was torn between fleeing the room and staying there with front row seats to his brother getting his cocky ass handed to him on a silver plate.

She'd actually made Dean speechless.

This was definitely something new. Sam had grown so used to women just gawking and drooling over Dean, no matter how lame his pick up lines were, that he just didn't know what to think of this.

"When did you see me naked?" He finally managed to find his voice again.

"Two minutes after Bobby and Sam brought you're bleeding ass into this room." She explained. "Now strip."

He refused to move.

"Oh, for christsake! I'll turn around and you can cover your precious family jewels with the sheet. How's that?" She gasped in exasperation, turning her back on him.

After a moment he reluctantly resumed undoing his pants. Looking up at Sam he growled:

"What?"

Sam had to suppress a laugh.

"Nothing." He quickly uttered when his brother glared at him.

After a minute…

"Done." Dean grumbled and she turned around to find him sitting on the table naked, a sheet between his legs, his bandaged abdomen and thighs exposed.

"See now, was that so hard?" She jeered and Sam's rumbling laughter echoed in the room causing Dean to snap at him:

"Sam, don't you have somewhere to be? I thought you and Bobby were going to get the comedian here her own hex bag?"

_'Oh, right! That...'_

"Yeah, I'll just..." Sam's thumb pointed towards the door and he stepped back, a smile lingering on his lips. "...go."

"Yeah, you do that." Dean narrowed his eyes at him.

When the door closed and they were left alone, he looked at Amy who was now unwrapping the dressing on his left thigh.

_'Here we go.'_

"I _am_ a doctor, you know? Which means I've seen my fair share of men naked." She pointed out.

"I bet you have." He scoffed.

She stopped and pinned him with her gaze.

"So your _precious_ is not the smallest or the largest I've seen."

"Yeah, well don't count on seeing it again anytime soon."

"Oh, I'm so distraught!" She said with fake disappointment. "I guess I'm just going to have to cling on that one fleeting memory to get me through the long, cold nights."

His reaction wasn't the one she was expecting when he grinned with all the conceit in the world:

"Maybe if you're a good little girl I'll let you have a second look."

Her response came in the form of a violent tug at the last loop of the bandage causing him to jerk in pain.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She apologized with false sympathy.

As she began cleaning the wounds the silence settled between them. She started at the knee and move upwards. The closer she got to the sheet the tighter his fists closed at his sides.

Her touch was gentle as she tried to avoid hurting him.

_'Too gentle.'_

Maybe he needed to piss her off a little more. Pain would unquestionably be his friend right about now, because if she kept this up...

"So..." He started. "Where's _mister_ Bony Amy?"

"That's none of your business."

"Ouch! By the level of crabbiness I'm going to assume there isn't one."

She stopped and glared at him demanding:

"Are you naturally this much of an ass or do you actually work at it?"

"It's all natural, baby." He grinned sideways.

In defeat she returned her attention to his thigh and Dean was grateful to notice the effect his words had on her touch, while at the time having to suppress a hiss at the added pressure.

Finishing with his left leg she moved to the other side and began working on his right one and Dean almost mewled in desperation when he realised that one of his sutured gashes went all the way up to his groin.

God had a sick sense of humour.

Any other woman and this would be considered a reward, but not with her. Why was that? Why was he so worried that she would become aware of just how much she affected him? He just couldn't figure out why he was so hell bent on keeping his attraction to her a secret?

He was permanently horny and had never felt the need to hide it from anyone. He usually actually flaunted it shamelessly. But not with her... Why?

The stillness was beginning to unnerve them both and oh, God! her hand was halfway up his thigh and it felt so good. Even with the hint of pain.

He swallowed hard. His lids seemed to hold the weight of the world and he wished he could just close them and relish in the intense feeling her closeness provoked.

"What's a hex bag and why do I need it?"

Her words snapped him out of his thoughts.

She needed to break the silence; it was excruciating and it brought too much attention to her irregular breathing pattern.

She carefully dabbed at the injury, following its tortuous trail up to his groin.

Did she really expect him to speak when her face was ten inches away from his crotch and her hand was...

_'God, that feels good.'_

He shook his head realising too much time had filtered by and her question remained unanswered.

"It's something to keep you off of Lilith's radar."

_'Think about something else.'_ He ordered his brain and the image of his car with a broken window flashed in his mind.

It didn't have the desired effect.

She was too close and he almost moaned when she spoke and he felt her warm breath on his skin:

"Why would Lilith come after me?"

He closed his eyes and focussed.

_'My baby completely smashed.'_

He waited a second. It seemed to be working.

He looked down and the sight of her head bobbing over his crotch throttled his pathetic effort.

"Um..." Gulp. "She might have gotten word of the whole ring thing from her lackeys."

"Hellhounds can talk?" She questioned standing up and, picking up the new bandages, began wrapping his leg.

Oh, thank God, it was almost over.

"Don't know... maybe."

He watched as her hands gradually moved up his thigh and his body once again reacted to her.

_'Maybe planes crashing?'_ He wondered and pictured himself in the most frightening situation he could think of.

Yeah, that seemed to be working.

_'See? You can do this.'_ He thought please with himself.

His satisfaction, however, was short lived when the back of her hand, moving along his inner thigh, accidentally brushed up against something it certainly shouldn't brush up against causing a part of him to literally jump to attention.

His reaction was immediate as he sat up straight, jerked away from her and, jumping off the bed, clumsily wrapped the sheet around himself.

"What the hell are you doing?" She yelled at his retreating back; the IV system clanking loudly as it followed him. "Where are you going?" She asked dumbfounded.

"Nature calls."

"But..." She didn't get a chance to finish as he hightailed out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

His nostrils flared as he walked into the kitchen and was surrounded by the mouth watering smell of fried bacon and eggs.

"Morning." Dean greeted taking a seat at the table while his brother brought two full plates and placed one of them in front of him.

"Morning." Sam replied picking up his fork and digging in.

After a moment he stopped and looked expectantly at Dean.

"You ok, man?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"There's food within grasping distance and you haven't touched it." Sam emphasized his point by waving his fork in the direction of Dean's oddly full plate.

On any ordinary day the hunter would've gobbled up its contents in twelve seconds flat. It was now one minute and counting. A new record for Dean, as far as Sam knew.

He watched as Dean simply shrugged and eventually picked up his own fork and began shovelling food into his mouth. That was more like it.

They settled into a comfortable and familiar silence as they ate their breakfast. At least outwardly that's what it looked like to Sam but in Dean's mind a pesky and uninvited question kept loudly niggling him. Where was she?

It had been two days since he'd seen her last. Ever since he'd started taking his antibiotics orally their encounters had been reduced to twenty minutes every couple of days for what he deemed the torture sessions. That's what he called the agonizing moments in which she changed his dressings. Apart from that they would occasionally bump into each other at meal times.

So, most of their interaction was limited to those dreaded twenty minutes every two days and today was one of them - torture day. And no. What he was feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn't anticipation it was... He tried to come up with a suitable lie to tell himself. He settled for nuisance. Yeah, that's what it was! That's what _she_ was - a nuisance. An exasperating and maddening nuisance and he certainly wasn't eager with the prospect of seeing her.

And, by the way, the first thing that had come to mind when he'd walked into the kitchen and had failed to find her there hadn't been to question his brother as to her whereabouts. Not at all! First thing was food; delicious, artery-clogging food! He looked down and let out a frustrated breath when he noted that the eggs and bacon were still crowding his plate after five minutes.

Sam frowned. Maybe Dean was coming down with something. Maybe he should have Amy take a closer look at him.

"You sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine." Dean answered grouchily and he resumed shoving the eggs into his mouth.

He wasn't quite sure if it was to shut his brother up or to keep himself from asking the question that kept repeating in his head. Where the hell was she? She had missed the last five meals.

Dean cringed inwardly. He was counting?!

"Stupid ring.." He muttered under his breath.

"Huh?" Sam piped up.

"Where's Bobby?" Dean quickly evaded the topic and the onslaught of questions that it would inevitably bring to the surface.

Sam knew him all too well and would immediately pick up on his anxiety when it came to subject of Amy. So the best thing was to stir clear of anything remotely related to her.

"We didn't find what we needed for Amy's hex bag."

"Again?"

"Well it's a pretty complicated hex. Anyway, Bobby went out to pick up something at a friend of his a few miles south of here. Afterwards we're going to Laramie. He thinks we'll be able to get the rest there." Sam explained.

Standing up, he was about to take his dishes to the sink when he turned to Dean:

"You gonna finish that?"

The question seemed bizarre to Sam, especially considering it was usually Dean's line and most of the times Sam found himself on the receiving end of it. The reply, however, was even more shocking:

"No." Dean responded pushing away his still half-full plate.

"Dean, are you sure you're not coming down with something? Maybe Amy should check you out."

_'I think Amy has been doing enough checking out during torture sessions, thank you very much!'_

This was Dean's mental reply to Sam's question. The one that actually came out was:

"Dude, I said I was fine. Quit asking!"

Sam shrugged, choosing to let the issue slide and began washing the dishes.  
After a few minutes of boring silence Dean stood up and came to lean on the counter.

"So... How long's the drive to Laramie?"

"'bout four hours. We should be back for dinner."

"We could stay there over night." Dean proposed.

Maybe that was what he needed - to get away from this house. A week of being cooped up with no other female company other than... _her_, was taking its toll on him. Now that he thought about it that was probably the source of all these... feelings. Yeah! That was exactly what he needed! A night out on the town, go to a bar, hang out with Sam, maybe hook up with a local hottie, and see if he could find some much needed release for this pent up energy. God only knew how charged he was!

He smiled at the prospect but Sam quickly put a damper on his cheerfulness:

"You're not going."

"Like hell I'm not!" Dean immediately stood up straight and eyed his little brother, who of little had... Well, very little.

"Dean, someone's gotta stay here to look after Amy. Without the hex bag she's completely exposed to Lilith." Sam argued.

"Come on. You and Bobby said it. Mega bitch has dropped off the face of the planet. Who knows, maybe you even anti-superchristed her."

Sam glared at his brother. The issue of Sam's _'special powers'_ and what had actually happened in that house over a week ago was still taboo.

"Doesn't mean she can't show up at any time. And if she does I'm pretty sure first thing she's gonna do is come to collect." Sam retorted.

"But why do I have to do it?" Dean half-whined.

"Because you're still not one hundred percent."

"Course I am."

Instead of arguing, Sam opted for a light punch directed at Dean's stomach causing him to instantly double over in pain and bellow:

"What the hell was that for?"

"Just proving a point."

"Yeah? Well, I'm telling you right now I'm not Nazi sitting." Dean's eyebrows lifted poignantly.

Sam sighed and was about to speak when Amy's quip startled them.

"I don't need babysitting."

The two Winchester boys whirled around to find her standing at the threshold of the door that led into the kitchen.

Dean's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Her long white coat was opened allowing a glimpse at her dark washed jeans and red shirt; her hair, as always, was trapped, this time in a tight ponytail. She was currently drying her hands with a towel. When she finished, she walked into the room and half-hazardously threw the towel in Dean's face adding:

"And don't call me a Nazi."

"Hey!" He protested clumsily swatting away the wet fabric and letting it fall to the floor.

She ignored him directing her attention at Sam as she lit a cigarette:

"You two off to a road trip?"

"Bobby and I are. Dean's staying here in case Lilith decides to show up.."

"So he can do what? Bleed on her?"

Dean's disgusted snort filled the room.

"I can handle myself. I don't need a strapping knight in shining armour to look after me." She noted bringing the cigarette to her lips for a long, satisfying drag, her eyes closing for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary for a common blink.

It had been subtle but enough for Dean to pick up on the pleasure that the nasty little habit provided her. His mind wandered momentarily before he forced himself to focus on the issue at hand.

"Sweetheart, if Lilith decides to come after you, you won't know your head from your ass. That's how terrified you'll be."

"I'll take my chances." She sneered forcing a fake grin. "Plus Jackson can help."

"Jackson's here?" Dean wondered.

He'd run into the hunter a few years before, back when he was still hunting with his father. He wasn't exactly the most amiable guy Dean had ever met, but he was pretty damn good at his job.

"Came in this morning. His son brought him. He's downstairs." Sam explained, before turning to Amy. "How is he anyway?"

"It's not looking very good. He's still in a coma."

At that Dean straightened, pushing himself off the counter.

"Jackson's in a coma?"

"Nasty run in with a wendigo." Sam replied.

Dean furrowed his brow. He didn't know the old man all that well but, from what little contact he'd had with him, he would have thought that a wendigo would be picnic for him.

"So, how is a guy in a coma going to protect you from ubber-demon-lady?" Dean questioned.

"I was talking about his son."

"Garth?" Dean chuckled. "The most Junior's gonna do is try to get into Lilith's pants."

Dean might not have had much contact with Jackson senior, but Junior? Oh, he knew him well enough! All the kid could think about was getting laid. The only requirement was basically the lack of a Y chromosome, everything else was fair game.

A honk coming from the street filtered into the kitchen.

"That's Bobby." Sam said picking up his jacket and sliding it on.

Dean hesitated and Amy rolled her eyes.

"Go, already." She snapped at him.

Setting his mouth in a harsh straight line Dean turned to leave and Sam stopped.

"Dean, you should stay here."

"What? She's telling me to leave. I _want_ to leave. Plus, she thinks Junior can handle Lilith I say let him give it a try."

"Who's Lilith?"

All three looked to see Garth standing in the hall.

He was a tall, in his mid twenties and was sporting a three-day old stubble. His hair was a little longer than when Dean had last seen him and he'd certainly buffed up. Not the same scrawny, fresh out of his teens kid Dean knew. He actually looked like a man who could handle himself.

His clothes were bloody, his jeans and shirt torn in various places.

"Nobody." Amy replied walking over.

Man, she looked tiny next to him.

Dean's eyes zeroed in on her hand when it came to rest on his arm.

"Are you ok?"

He didn't reply simply brought his fingers up to grasp hers for a reassuring squeeze and Dean had to repress a growl.

"Come on. Let me have a look at your injuries." Her voice was soft, nothing like the snooty tone she usually directed at Dean.

"I'm fine. Just flesh wounds." Garth's eyes dropped to the floor melancholically.

Aw! Come on! He was playing the sympathy card.

Yep. Might have grown up physically, but he was still the same man-whore Dean had met. Even with his father laying in a coma he would definitely try to take a stab at Amy. Dean's facial muscles contracted in disgust.

_'Pff. Amy's never gonna fall for that._ _She's too-_'

His thought process was cut short, his eyes widened when he saw her sympathetic smile. She was buying into this crap?

Another insistent honk snapped Dean out of his thoughts.

"Bobby's waiting. You guys better go." Amy said turning around and leading Garth downstairs.

Dean lingered in the kitchen, watching them retreat, his eyes focussed on one thing - her hand lightly rubbing his back.-and his blood boiled.

"Dean, you coming or what?"

"Huh?" He shook his head. "Um... comin'."

He didn't like this. He didn't like this one bit and apparently neither did his stomach cause it was furiously pumping acid almost all the way up to his throat.

Reluctantly, Dean followed his brother out the door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Just sit down and I'll be right back." Amy pointed at the couch in the middle of the large living room and with a nod Garth took a seat.

The moment she was out the door, however, he stood up and walked over to the nearby window. A malicious grin distorted his thin lips when he saw the truck pull out of the driveway, closely followed by the Impala.

Good! Now he could get down to business.

Sensing she was coming up the stairs he quickly moved around the furniture and by the time she was back she found him where she had left him.

In her hand she carried gauze, a bottle of antiseptic and a suture kit just in case. She didn't want to do this downstairs and expose him to his father's vegetative state. He'd been through enough already.

"Where are you injured?" She questioned, busily organizing the material on the coffee table in front on him.

When she didn't get an answer she looked up at him from her crouching position.

"I told you, I'm fine."

He needed to buy time. Make sure the Winchesters were out of the equation before he made his move. He couldn't afford having boy wonder around.

"Come on. I know you're hurt." She insisted.

When she tried to approach him Garth suddenly stood up and moved away.

"Garth..." She began, standing up but he cut her off.

"Just drop it, ok?"

His harsh tone caught her off guard. Why was he refusing treatment? Was he shy? Afraid? It was obvious he was hurt. He had to be considering the large claw shaped gashes in his jeans and his torn, bloody shirt. It was a miracle he wasn't limping or hissing with every little movement he made. Amy frowned at the realisation. Why wasn't he showing any outward sign of being hurt? He should be. She'd seen enough injured hunters to recognize the evidence of a wendigo attack and the slashes his clothes were sporting were definitely a result of a run in with a wendigo.

She watched him closely, taking in his every move as he sauntered around the living room. Nothing, not even a cringe. He ambled about effortlessly.

Something was wrong.

Trying to keep her suspicions from him, she cautiously began to move, consciously putting as much distance between herself and the man as she could while at the same time attempting to look as casual and unaltered as possible. Her throat clenched when his eyes suddenly zeroed in on her.

Gone was the gloomy and vulnerable demeanour, unexpectedly replaced by a predatory glint in his stare.

"I better go check on your father." Her words seemed to linger in the silence and she was glad she'd been able to keep her anxiety from seeping into them.

One moment she was turning around to leave and the next she was being slammed against a wall and her stunned mind wondered if her inability to take a breath was because of the hand that was currently clutching her throat or the sight of two black, lifeless orbs glaring at her.

She'd never seen a demon, but immediately knew what she was facing.

Her pulse raced as he narrowed his eyes at her and barked:

"I don't think so."

She ignored her frantic pulse and kept her voice steady as she demanded:

"What do you want?"

He grinned at that. She had spunk; he had to give her that. This wasn't the usual reaction he got from humans.

"What do you think?" He leered at her.

"Kill me."

The bluntness with which she said it surprised him. She was most definitely _not_ like other humans. Not even most hunters had this much nerve.

Though she managed to keep an outward appearance of serenity, within the terror was suffocating her. What had she gotten herself into? And why had she made Dean leave?

_'Stupid, stubborn Amy!_' She mentally chastised herself.

The demon eyed her silently. It was a pity he was going to have to make this quick. He really would have liked to have a little more time to... play. Too bad. She looked like fun.

Slowly, he began to gradually tighten his hold on her throat. Seeing her facial muscles contracted agonizingly brought forth a powerful surge of pleasure. This would have been so much fun…

It was now or never, either she made a move or...

Clutching the scalpel in her hand she brought it up and jammed it into the side of his neck as hard as she could.

He didn't howl in pain as would be expected but instinctively released his grasp on her in order to reach for the blade which was now embedded in his throat.

Seizing the opportunity she made a run for the basement. Hastily taking the steps two at a time she reached the downstairs in record time and slammed the large door behind her, locking it from the inside.

Taking a step back she stared wide eyed and breathless at the entrance and waited. Even through the thick metallic structure she could hear his footsteps, teasing and sluggish, coming closer and closer.

"Aw, honey... do you really think a door is going to keep me out of there?" She heard him snigger. "You really should learn a little more about demons." He chuckled and she braced herself.

Desperately scanning the room she tried to find something to defend herself. There was nothing but medical paraphernalia; nothing that would be of any help with a demon.

She knew a lot of things. After all she was quite literally and officially a genius, at least that's what her IQ tests pointed to. She'd been the first in her class at Harvard, spoke six languages, two of them dead ones, had a vast knowledge of history, mathematics, chemistry, you name it. Her knowledge on demonology, though? Nonexistent. Right now all she could remember was that vampires didn't like garlic for some odd reason and there was something about a bullet through the heart. Or was that with werewolf? It was, wasn't it? A silver bullet? Yeah, vampires were disposed of with stakes and sunlight and... possibly decapitation... and-

_'What the hell are you doing? There's a demon on the other side of the door trying to kill you and you're trying to remember how to kill Dracula?_' Her hysterical brain screamed at her. '_Focus! Demon here! What do you know about demons? Screw vampires!'_

"Right... demons, demons... what do I know about demons?"She muttered out loud.

_'Evil? Check.'_

"Oh, Amy..." He singsonged.

_'Teasing sociopathic bastards? Check!'_

She frenetically searched the memories of her youth. Why hadn't she paid more attention to Dean when he went into one of his many nauseating, self-congratulatory accounts of his hunting accomplishments?

_'I think the key word there would be nauseating. The guy is just so full of-'_

The sane part of her brain once again interrupted her mental rambling.

_'Ok! You're going off track again, honey! Not the best time for this! Let's leave the Dean-bashing for some other time, shall we? Say, when you don't have the big, bad demon trying to huff and puff the door down, ok?'_

"Salt!" She suddenly remembered.

Yes, demons definitely didn't like salt. But where was she going to-

_'The IV fluid!'_

She made a run for the cabinet just as the demon began crashing his fist against the door.

He could feel the panic irradiating from the other room. It was intoxicating and he prolonged the chase and his gratification by simply hitting the door with a fraction of his actual strength. He knew better, he should just get it over with. After all he had a job to do and failing wasn't an option. But this was so delicious he couldn't help himself. It was just-

"Hey!"

He whirled around and was shocked to find Dean standing in front of him.

One of the last things the demon saw was Dean tilting his head sideways with a cocky grin as he greeted:

"Hi!"

And then a sharp pain in his gut directed his gaze downward. The dagger firmly jammed into his stomach worked its magic like lighting and within a couple of seconds Garth's lifeless body collapsed to the floor.

On the other side of the door Amy stood frozen, her only weapon - three measly bags of IV fluid. She waited once again, anticipating the demon's next move. Considering the loud banging had stopped she expected the door to be flung off its hinges at anytime.

At least that was what happened in the movies. God, she hated not knowing what to do! Hated it! She promised that if she got out of this one alive she was going to squeeze Sam for every last bit of information he had on all things supernatural.

She was not going to be caught off guard ever again. Never. She was going to- What the hell was this demon waiting for anyway? He was really starting to piss her off.

"Amy!"

Her eyes widened.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, open the door."

Dean? What was he doing here? This was a trick. Could possessed people mimic the voices of other humans? Apparently, they could. She didn't remember Sam telling her anything about that. That was odd.

"Amy!"

She remained silent, trying to figure out what to do next.

"Amy? Are you there?"

Silence.

"Open the door, Amy!" Dean bellowed; fear taking over.

Was she ok?

"No." She bellowed back, cautiously drawing closer, curiosity getting the best of her.

It was uncanny how he sounded exactly like Dean. Man, that voice thing was a neat trick.

"Why the hell not?"

"I know this is a trick. Do you think I'm stupid? I know demons can imitate other people's voices." She flat out lied.

"What?!"

What was she going on about?

"Demon's can't imitate people's voices!" He exclaimed growing increasingly annoyed.

"Oh, yes they can!"

"It's me, Dean!"

"Yeah, right..." She snorted.

"Open the Goddamn door, Amy!" He was now shouting; the severity of his tone brought on by a mixture of fear for her wellbeing and aggravation at her stubbornness.

"Not a chance in hell!" She yelled.

"Amy, I swear to God, if you don't open the door-"

"You'll what?" She defied.

The sharp and deafening sound of a bullet being shot startled her causing her to jump back just as Dean kicked the door down.

"Get back!" She ordered, clutching the IV in her hands.

Her terrified one-track mind barely registered that the man in front of her actually looked like Dean. Maybe he was possessed too!

Dean just shook his head ignoring her command and closed the distance between them.

Before he knew it he was soaked from head to toe in saline.

She waited for something to happen, a sign of pain, a hiss, maybe some smoke to come off of him, but got nothing. Just a very pissed off and drenched Dean glaring at her.

She stood perfectly still, a guilty look on her face as she whispered with an apologetic shrug:

"Oops."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Oops?" He repeated and earning a tight, nervous smile from Amy.

He didn't look too happy.

"Oops?" He said a bit louder, taking a step towards her and causing her to take one back just for precaution.

Yep, he was soaked and pissed.

_'Better backtrack a bit more.'_ She thought, cautiously widening the distance between them as she offered:

"Um... sorry?"

"What the hell was that for?" He questioned, once again coming closer and she realised there wasn't any room left to backtrack to when she felt the cold cabinet against her back.

"Well, I thought you were a demon." She retaliated, feeling cornered as he towered over her.

She didn't remember him being this tall. Or maybe she was short? Or maybe it was just because she always saw him standing next to Sam. Everyone looked short next to Sam.

"A demon that imitates voices?" The way he said it made her idea sound silly and absurd.

"What do you want? My data on demonology is kind of limited to Anne Rice novels."

"You bet it is." He snorted and she frowned.

Her wounded pride brought on a change in her demeanour. Her chin rose high and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"At least I remembered about the salt thing." She countered snootily.

"Yeah, and look how handy that came in." He pointedly spread out his arms at his sides, indicating his current drenched state.

"It would have been if you were a demon." She haughtily raised her eyebrows at him and set her mouth in a determined straight line as if she'd just given him a brilliant argument that would end the discussion in her favour.

He, on the other hand, gawked at her like she'd grown a second head.

After twenty seconds of being under his intense stare her stomach seemed to have had enough.

He was just too close, and damn, why did he have to smell the way he did. How was she supposed to make any sense? Of course she sounded like she was insane.

"What?" She snapped when the butterflies in her gut became too much for her to handle.

He simply continued to look at her. His glassy eyes dropped to her mouth for a second and that was it. She mentally kicked herself when she caved under the pressure and dropped her gaze.

_'Crap! Look up! Look up!_' Her mind commanded, but she was too busy trying to keep her knees from buckling to conjure up the coordination skills needed to control her neck muscles.

Too close. Every time he took a breath his chest would almost touch hers. Why did he have to take up so much space while breathing? And why was her brain suddenly complaining of oxygen shortage?

"Where's Garth?" She congratulated herself as she achieved what she thought was impossible - speaking without stuttering.

_'Good for you! You still can't look him in the eye, but that's just 'cause the floor is so pretty.'_ Her brain mocked her.

"Dead."

Her eyes jerked up at the curt reply.

"What?"

And she pushed him away striding over to the door but stopping in her tracks when she found the young man's lifeless body just beyond the threshold.

"You killed him?" She whirled around to face him.

"He was probably already dead when the demon took over." Dean explained.

"Probably?"

He didn't like the tone with which she said it and his back immediately stiffened for a defensive stance.

"Probably is not good enough."

"Well, I had no choice." He snapped.

"You always have a choice." She replied, the accusation now clear in her voice.

"He was about to kill you." Dean pointed out and was once again looming over her, but this time she met his gaze and held it.

"But he didn't."

"Yeah, 'cause I killed him before he had a chance." He scoffed. Pinning her with his eyes he reminded her: "I saved your life."

"I don't need you to save my life if it means innocent people have to die."

"I told you, he was probably already dead-"

"Save it." For her it was the end of the discussion.

She was just too wired to get into another fight with him. But he didn't let up. In a flash, his hand was on her arm whirling her around and preventing her from walking away. Their breaths caught simultaneously when the sudden movement caused their bodies to crash together.

It took him a few seconds to regain his composure before he was able to say:

"I did what I had to do."

His mouth was a few measly inches from hers and his breath was warm on her flushed cheeks.

"You had a choice."

"Yeah… Let you die. It wasn't a hard choice to make."

Why did he have to keep looking at her mouth like that? She couldn't think... She didn't like not being able to think. It was what she did best and she felt lost and exposed without it.

Her mind raced, trying to find away out of this and eventually she stuttered as she pushed him away:

"Y-you're getting me all wet."

They both instantly froze, their eyes widening in shock at the double meaning of her words.

"Ok. I-I didn't mean... I-I mean, I meant... I wasn't talking about..."

_'Amy! Get a grip on yourself! How many times are can you say that word mean?'_ Her brain yelled at her.

Dean watched as she fidgeted nervously, her eyes fretfully bouncing off of every available surface in a desperate attempt to avoid looking at him while her frantic hands hastily alternated between running through her hair, ruining her ponytail in the process, and dropping to twirl her ring.

She was just so cute when she was nervous. God, she was gorgeous!

"I mean you're wet a-and we were touching so-"

"I got you wet?" His left eyebrow mischievously shot up at her.

That cocky remark earned him a deadly glare and she immediately stopped moving; jumpiness giving way to anger.

"Funny. You're just hilarious." She sneered.

"What? You were the one who said it." He feigned innocence.

"Just get out of those wet clothes." She ordered.

"If you say so." He agreed starting to unbutton his shirt and she rolled her eyes.

"Would you get your mind out of the gutter and your ass out of here? I've got work to do." She ended the question with an annoyed sigh.

Assuming a serious expression he nodded.

"I'll meet you in the car in twenty minutes." He turned to leave but halted at her:

"Huh?"

"Ok, fine. Half an hour. Jeez, how long does it take you to pack?"

She lifted her eyebrows.

"Pack?"

"Yeah. We're leaving." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I'm not leaving." Her chin was doing that haughty jutting out thing it usually did whenever the stubborn five year old kid in her surfaced.

"Yeah... you are. With me. Now."

She chuckled and a fraction of a second later there was no evidence of her having smiled as she replied:

"No, I'm not."

"Amy."

She didn't like the way he said her name. She didn't like what it did to her. There went her knees again, turning into mush.

"Winchester." She scoffed back.

"You and I are leaving this place and meeting up with Sam."

"Um? Need I remind you of the comatose man next to you? I'm not leaving him."

Damn! She was right. But they had to leave. Lilith had already sent someone after her. That meant she knew where she was. They needed to find Sam and get her that hex bag before Mega bitch sent someone else.

"We're going to have to leave him. Call someone to watch him or something." Dean explained.

"There's no one else." She lied.

She knew exactly who to call, someone who knew about what she did, someone who was a brilliant surgeon, someone she hadn't spoken to in over a year - Michael.

"Well, there's gotta be. Either you find someone to come help you or we're leaving him. Two choices, Amy."

Her heart skipped a beat. Would he just stop saying her name like that already? She was getting jelly knees.

"Yes, there is."

He tilted his head at her, unconvinced but didn't say anything and instead waited for option number three.

"You leave and I stay here."

"Yeah, cause that worked out just peachy the first time around." He scoffed. "Just call someone."

"No." She stood her ground.

There was something she wasn't telling him. Everything about her told him so - the way she moved, the edge in her voice, everything.

"You must know someone from college, or work... something."

"No."

Her thumb worried the silver band around her middle finger. Definitely, something was off.

"Amy, just call someone."

"I'm not calling him, alright?"

Dean was caught off guard by her sudden yell.

_'Him?'_

The silence seemed to suffocate her and she was both relieved and angry when he spoke again.

"Amy, we don't have much time. Just call him."

When she met his gaze he was shocked to find her eyes bloodshot and glassy with tears. She held on, not allowing any to tumble over her cheeks, her mouth closed tightly as she swallowed hard.

"Please, Amy." He begged her and after what seemed like an eternity to him, she nodded.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10**

His foot tapped a tense, fidgety beat on the carpet, the palms of his hands pressed together almost painfully while he watched them in the distance from his spot on the couch.

He winced a bit when he accidentally applied a little too much pressure on a particularly sensitive spot on his right hand. It was bruised from the recent grave digging.

After agreeing to call for help, Amy had closed up completely, her demeanour becoming uncharacteristically dark and distant as she'd turned all of her attention to the eldest of the Jacksons.

Silently, Dean had taken Garth's body outside, around the back of the house and had buried it. He'd returned to find her even more distressed.

When he'd entered the basement, covered in sweat and dirt, she'd just told him she had to take off his bandages and had pointed to the couch. Without another word she'd diligently gone about removing the dressings and the stitches. The wounds had healed nicely and they didn't hurt anymore.

The intense dynamic that always seemed to rise between them during what Dean called the _torture session_ had definitely changed.

It was still charged and uncomfortable but this time mostly because of the way she held herself. She wasn't snooty, or annoyed, she didn't even take jabs at him when he accidentally fidgeted a bit more. There had been a contrasting combination of nostalgia and detachment irradiating from her. She'd worked on him as if he wasn't even there, mechanically, her hands had moved over his body all the while her eyes had remained blank. He'd watched her closely, trying to figure out whether or not he should ask her why she was so altered, why she'd been so resistant to calling someone in the first place. He'd thought about it for so long that by the time he'd decided to confront her she'd finished and was already throwing way the wasted material.

As he'd pulled on his jeans, she'd informed him in a low, controlled tone, with her back to him:

"I'll get my things ready in ten minutes." Throwing away the towel she'd used to dry her hands after having washed them she simply walked out of the room.

Confused, Dean had trudged up the stairs and into the bathroom for a quick shower. When he'd stepped out, dressed in clean clothes, his hair wet and dishevelled he'd bumped into her in the hall.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before she'd averted hers to the cell phone she'd been holding and informed:

"My things are in the living room. He'll be here in five minutes."

She didn't even look up to notice his agreeing nod as she marched into the basement.

Five minutes later the doorbell had rung and she'd emerged almost instantly from the basement.

He'd watched as she'd faltered when she'd reached the door - the fretful finger worrying her ring a clear signal of her anxious state.

The sound coming from the doorbell eventually snapped her out of her reverie and she'd mechanically opened the door.

She'd held her breath, when she'd finally met him.

From the couch Dean was now finally graced with the image of the man who was responsible for the change in Amy.

He was quite tall, almost as tall as Sam, Dean figured, and Amy looked miniscule standing in front of him, craning her neck to meet his gaze.

The guarded way they stood seemed to be aimed at keeping a safe distance between them as they spoke in a quiet voice.

Amy's mouth turned for a weak and nostalgic smile when she greeted him, and Dean could find a matching look on the newly arrived man.

Dean waited, patiently, for a sign from Amy that he was allowed to intrude on their conversation, but it never came. Instead, the two disappeared into the basement and he was left upstairs, alone.

Getting up he walked over to the window and found an ambulance parked just outside the main door. Two men sat inside of it.

Returning to the middle of the room he eventually found himself pacing around the space. Ten minutes sluggishly dragged by and there was still no sign of Amy or the mysterious man. It was making him nervous.

When he decided he'd had enough and was about to strut down the stairs, the door leading to the basement opened and Dean halted as he now faced the man.

Yep, he was tall alright. And the way he held himself, broad shoulders proudly fixed and chin held high made him look even bigger.

Maybe he was taller than Sam.

"Hey." Dean greeted awkwardly as Amy emerged from behind the giant.

"Good afternoon." His voice was deep and in control. Not arrogant, but poised.

"Oh... Um..."

Dean's attention turned to Amy when he detected the anxiety in her tone.

"This is Dr. Michael Hamilton. Michael this is Dean." She was barely able to keep the stutter from her voice as she introduced the two men.

Michael outstretched his hand and Dean took it, eyes still fixed on Amy.

So this guy got to be introduced as Dr. _I'm-so-special_, but he was just plain Dean? This had to be corrected.

"Dean Winchester." He said pompously, meeting Michael's gaze and making sure to add a little more pressure than usual to the handshake.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Michael remained unfazed, but made sure to return in kind gripping Dean's hand.

They just stood there; gazes locked, clasped hands wobbling up and down in a monotonous and never ending greeting.

Amy had a feeling that she was witnessing the world's longest handshake. What were they doing?

She waited for one of them to end it, but it was clear they had engaged in some kind of macho stare down contest, with the handshake thrown in for an added bonus.

After about a minute of this ridiculous display she decided to intervene.

"Michael, we better call the guys in."

Nothing. They just merrily continued to shake hands and stare.

"OK, if you guys are done bonding I would like to move Jackson while he's still stable." She sighed getting slightly annoyed.

Guys were so stupid sometimes.

"You're right." Michael agreed letting go. "I'll go get them." He announced walking around Dean.

A cocky, victorious smirk lit up the hunter's face.

He jumped a bit when Amy slapped him on the arm.

"What the hell was that?" She scolded with a frown.

"Nothing." Dean shrugged and she gave him a disgusted look while she muttered:

"Guys are such idiots."

Walking over to hold the door open Amy waited for the three men to bring in the gurney.

"Hey, he started it." Dean defended himself and she just rolled her eyes.

Leave it to Dean Winchester to turn a man as mature and respectable as Michael into a hormone packed Neanderthal in under five seconds flat.

............

"I'll call you from the hospital."

Dean heard Michael say before he stepped into the ambulance.

"Ok." Amy nodded. "Thanks again for everything."

"You're welcome, Amy."

Dean didn't like the sound of her name coming from him.

Both Amy and Michael frowned, eyes darting towards Dean at the rumbling sound that came out of him.

After ten awkward seconds, the duo decided to ignore the incident as Michael continued:

"I'll see you, Ames."

Oh, he certainly didn't like the nickname, either!

"Bye." Amy's demeanour was warm and kind.

But the moment the ambulance pulled way she was back to her old, bitchy self as she glared at Dean.

"What?" He asked innocently.

"Did you just growl?"

"No." Dean denied vehemently.

"Yeah, you did!" She insisted. "What the hell was that for?"

"I don't know what you and Dr. Gigantor there have going on but, next time, just take it to the bedroom, ok?" It was supposed to come out sarcastic and light-hearted, but there was definitely a caustic undertone to his words.

Amy's eyes widened.

"What?!"

"Oh, come on. You're welcome..." His voice was low and sultry in his attempt to ridicule Michael's. "...Amy."

"Shut up." She grumbled stomping her way back to the house, Dean quickly trailing behind.

"Just call'em as I see 'em, sweetheart. And that guy definitely wants to come back for seconds."

Amy stopped dead in her tracks and pinned him with her eyes.

But he remained unaffected by the poisonous glare.

"It's obvious you guys have a history. Don't need to be a genius to figure that one out."

For someone as primitive as Dean he sure had a keen eye for picking up on things.

"And the doc?" He tilted his head in the direction the ambulance had disappeared to. "Yeah, if he could he'd have another go at you."

From shock her expression turned to revulsion.

"You're a pig, Winchester."

"I'm a guy. I know when another guy is trying to get into a woman's pants."

"You think everyone's trying to get into someone's pants, 'cause that's all you wanna do." She scoffed walking inside the house.

"Not true." He bellowed after her. "Sometimes I wanna eat."

Feeling the emptiness in his stomach he added:

"Speaking of which, how about we have some chow before we hit the road. I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry." Amy rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time as she entered the kitchen and Dean made a straight line for the fridge. "You're in a permanent state of hunger and horniness."

He grinned at her with a mouth full of a sandwich he found as he agreed:

"That's me. Hungry and horny."

"Like I said - pig."

She shook her head and lit up a cigarette.

"Hey, I'm eating here." Dean protested.

"My house. My rules." Was her curt reply.

Ten minutes later the bags were crammed in the back seat of the Impala and the two sat in the front.

Dean turned the ignition and drove off.

By the time they reached the open road, Amy was padding the pockets of her jacket and fishing out her pack of cigarettes.

She was about to take one out of the carton container when Dean spoke:

"Don't even think about lighting up in my baby."

"Baby?" Her tone was mocking.

"The car, sweetheart. No smoking allowed."

"But-"

"My car. My rules." He threw her previous response back at her and she glowered at him as he grinned.

Gruffly stuffing her cigarettes back in her pocket she scowled:

"Don't call me sweetheart."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Her nails tapped anxiously on the arm rest of the car door causing Dean to throw her a sideways glower.

She ignored him, like she always did and continued to tap-tap away. She was tired, feeling dirty, on the run from a royally pissed off demon and her little minions and he wasn't letting her smoke. What was she supposed to do? Just sit tight and do as she was told? Hell, no! If she was going to be miserable and nicotine deprived she was going to make damn sure he was just as miserable as she was.

When she shifted for the tenth time in the same amount of minutes Dean couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Will you just quit fidgeting, already?" He bellowed. "It's distracting."

"Oh, really?" Her voice was dripping with caustic sarcasm. "You know what else is distracting? Having to leave your home in a hurry, without taking a decent shower, because some Uber demon wants your entrails on a stick."

He didn't say anything and simply kept his eyes on the road.

After a minute she moved again and sighed loudly.

"Can't you just sit still for like a minute?" He demanded.

"Don't push me, Winchester. My nicotine levels are way to low to deal with you right now." She threatened. "How much longer till we get to the motel?"

"Maybe half an hour." Dean replied.

Another minute went by and she let out another deep, frustrated breath.

"That's it!" Dean exclaimed suddenly pulling over and slamming the brakes. "Get out!"

She looked at him bug-eyed.

"Go have a smoke already. I can't take another second of you worming around, let alone half an hour." He explained.

Wordlessly, she stepped out making sure to bang the door.

"Hey, watch it!"

She didn't even notice when he got out of the car and came around to give her a reproving scowl. She was too busy rummaging through her pockets. He was stunned at the expression of intense pleasure that appeared on her face when she finally took a deep puff of the poisonous cigarette.

"Those things are going to kill you." He muttered trying to ignore the warmth in the pit of his stomach.

Her left eyebrow instantly popped up on her forehead.

"You're joking, right?"

"That's what you docs say anyway." Dean shrugged.

"Off the top of my head I can think of at least a couple of looming death threats which are clearly more imminent than a stupid cigarette."

Her eyes were closed, her head lolling back as she leaned on the side of the car, thoroughly enjoying her smoke. The image caused him to stare at her.

He hastily redirected his attention to the asphalt when she opened her eyes and caught him. Trying to divert her attention from his indiscretion, he grumbled:

"Will, you just hurry up. Sam's waiting for us."

And she glared daggers at him.

"I'm not moving from here until I've had at least three cigarettes."

"What?"

"I'm replenishing my nicotine stock." She informed haughtily.

"You get one cigarette and that's it." He countered.

"Forget it." She puffed closing her lids again.

"Amy, I'm serious."

"So am I." She retorted snapping her eyes open to pin him with her stare.

He took a step forward and knowingly invaded her personal space, using his height as a form of intimidation, but it didn't take as she just craned her neck up and matched his glower.

Bringing the cigarette to her lips she took one last drag before dropping it to the ground. With her eyes still on his she extracted another cylinder from the carton box and brought it to her mouth.

He narrowed his eyes seeing the lighter come closer to the tip of the cigarette.

"Don't even think about it."

"I'm not thinking. I'm doing." She replied arrogantly but just as she was about to burn the cigarette he grabbed the lighter from her hand.

"A-ha!" He said triumphantly stepping way and teasingly waved the stolen object around.

She remained unfazed and simply fished out another similar lighter from the back of her jeans and lit up her cigarette before sardonically returning his:

"A-ha. Oh, you sad little man, you know so little about smokers." She mocked.

His smile crumbled.

"Put that thing out." He commanded coming to tower over her again.

"I will, when I'm good and ready." She gave him a tight smile and he felt his blood bubble.

God, she was infuriating.

"Put. It. Out." He bit out each word.

"No." She said in a light jibbing tone.

"Amy, I'm warning you…"

"And I'm smoking. So quit-"

Her eyes widened in shock when he snatched the cigarette straight out of her mouth and threw it off the side of the road.

"You bastard!" She screamed.

"Get in the car." He said coming around to the driver's side.

"No!"

"Amy, get in the fucking car."

He widened his eyes at her when she made a move to take another cigarette.

"Don't do it." He warned.

She stuck out her tongue and ignored him. Before she knew it her back was flat against the door of the passenger seat and she had two glaring green eyes staring at her.

"Gimme, that!"

"Hey!"

Despite her protest, Dean seized the crumpled pack out of her hands and threw it over his shoulder.

"Get in the car."

"Like hell I will."

"Either you get in the car or you're riding in the trunk." He gave her her options.

She forced a smile.

"You wouldn't dare." She uttered all the while trying to read his expression.

It was kind of hard with said expression hovering about two inches away from her face.

"Try me." He issued the serious challenged.

"Let me go."

"Promise to get into the car and I will."

"I need another cigarette." She insisted.

"What you need is to get your scrawny ass in the car." The moment he said he knew it was a mistake.

Ever since they were kids Amy hated being called scrawny or bony, hence the nickname he'd chosen for her.

Suddenly she pushed him away and tried to escape. He stumbled back for a second, but just as she was about to weasel her way out of his trap he grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them on the hood of the car on either side of her.

Her heart began to race at the prospect of being truly tramped and her brain went on autopilot. Her knee came up to connect with his groin but he anticipated the move and stepped forward, pushing his body into hers fully and successfully evade her assault. She felt the air being knocked out of her lungs as he slammed into her. Every single fibber in her body screamed, her throat closed up and she found a whole new meaning of the expression _'butterflies in your stomach'_ when she felt it spam powerfully.

On one hand she wanted to get as much distance between them as possible, but on the other she was thankful he was pressed against her because the way her knees were shaking she was pretty sure she'd plop mushily to the floor if not for his unwelcome support.

_'Please don't move, please don't move, please don't move...'_

Dean wasn't quite sure if his mental plead was directed at her or at a certain part of his anatomy. Either way it was best if neither budged. He wasn't sure what he would do if either scenario unfolded.

Regaining her composure after the initial surprise, she repeated, but winced inwardly when her voice came out feeble and hoarse:

"Let me go."

He was staring at her mouth again. Why did he keep doing that? It just made it harder for her to breathe.

"Get in the car." He was barely able to keep the need from his tone.

She pondered on asking again but feared that her voice would falter if she did, so she tried to wiggle her way free and this time he wasn't able to hold in a guttural moan as her actions caused their pelvis to grind together.

Their wide eyes met. The primitive sound that had come out of him had been unmistakable. And things down south weren't helping either. She was pretty sure something had just moved.

He could feel the heat irradiating from his cheeks. Conflicting emotions of embarrassment and anger for feeling that same embarrassment clashed inside him.

Why the hell was he trying to hide this from her when his usual MO was to flaunt it?

He was supposed to feel cocky at the dumbfounded expression on her face, not shame.

He wanted her... So what? Big deal!

Eventually, the rage won over and snapped him into action.

Amy let out a yelp when she was abruptly flung over his shoulder and the next thing she knew she was being dumped inside the trunk of the Impala.

Her back connected with the dark surface and before she could yell, the hood was being slammed in her face.

Dean let his hands and forehead rest on the stirring wheel as he gathered himself.

His pulse was frantic, his breathing erratic, his palms sweaty.

In the distance he could make out her shouting and cursing.

This woman was going to be the death of him.

Sam let out a sigh when he saw the familiar Impala park just outside the motel. But his relief was short-lived when he failed to see Amy in the passenger seat. He rushed out of his room to meet his brother halfway.

"Where's Amy?"

Dean never stopped moving as he tossed Sam the keys and informed him nonchalantly:

"In the trunk. I'm taking a shower."

Sam halted gobsmacked, but Dean was already inside.

"In the- What do you mean in the trunk?!"

"Dean, you bastard! Get me the hell out of here! I'm going to kill-"

She stopped yelling when the trunk finally opened and she saw an apologetic Sam looking down on her.

"Where is he?" She demanded jumping out of her car.

"He's inside, but-"

Sam wasn't even able to finish; she was already marching her way up to the door he had left open.

Stepping inside, she made a straight line for the bathroom door when her ears picked up on the sound of a shower. Not bothering to knock, she practically kicked the door open and ignored the fact that a shirtless Dean was currently working on unfastening his jeans.

"You asshole!"

Her fist connected powerfully with his jaw catching him off guard and he stumbled back for a moment.

Before she could go in for seconds, Sam caught her, his arm hastily wrapping around her waist and literally sweeping off her feet as he carried her back into the room.

"Amy, calm down."

Dean heard his brother beg her. He watched her struggled against Sam's grip, her legs and arms waving around madly, her auburn locks, which had come loose from her ponytail, were now covering her face.

"Let go of me, Sam!" She shouted.

"Not before you calm down." He responded.

She wiggled around a few seconds more, but eventually realised that this wasn't going to get her anywhere, so she let her body go limp in a sign of defeat.

Cautiously, Sam started letting go of her, but the moment her feet touched the floor she pounced on Dean. Thankfully, Sam's quick reflexes came in handy and he stepped in between her and the older hunter. She still tried in vain to reach Dean, but Sam was like a wall she couldn't move around.

"You're crazy!" Dean accused.

She stopped at that and just glared at him, while Sam remained guardedly between them.

"Good! That way I can plead temporary insanity when I kill you!" She spat huffing and puffing a few rebellious locks away from her face.

Dean just gawked. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks pink with anger, her breathing was frenzied causing her chest to rise up and down at a frightening pace, but the most astonishing thing about her at that moment were definitely her eyes.

Glaring murderously at him, they seemed greener than before, and he could've sworn he saw a hint of fire in them.

She looked... He gulped.

Ineptly, he reached for the fastening of his jeans and zipped them back up.

"Look, Amy, I don't know why Dean locked you in the trunk, but he shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry." Sam was speaking, but had the strangest feeling that neither of them was listening as they glowered heatedly at one another.

The staring contest went on for another minute or so before Amy spoke, her eyes never leaving Dean's.

"Do you have the bag thingy?"

"The hex bag? Yeah, I have it right here." Sam reached for his backpack, retrieving the object and handing it to Amy.

"Good."

With that she strutted out of the motel.

"Where is she going?" Sam questioned worriedly looking at Dean for help, but he didn't budge.

Sam relaxed a bit when Amy walked back inside carrying her own backpack. Dropping it on the bed she opened it and dug out three bottles containing prescription drugs.

"These are the antibiotics, that's painkillers. The information on how to take them is on the labels. Drink lots of fluids, try to keep the wounds clean and no heavy lifting 'cause even with you being stitch free it doesn't mean they can't open up again." The words came out of her robotically and without any emotion.

She looked up at Sam and said:

"It was nice seeing you again, Sam." Turning to the shorter brother she added: "You, not so much. Goodbye."

And with that she was out the door.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

She was leaving? She was actually leaving! Dean just stood there, stunned while every inch of him urged him to move, to try and stop her, but his pride won the battle and he remained with his feet firmly planted on the carpeted floor of the motel room.

"Good riddance." He grumbled earning a flabbergasted, wide-eyed scowl from his brother.

"You're just gonna let her go?" Sam questioned in disbelief.

"What am I supposed to do? She wants to leave, I say let her." Dean shrugged with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

Sam shook his head in disapproval as he sped after her; a part of Dean thanked him silently when Sam scooped Amy up off her feet. She let out a high-pitched shriek when he did a 180 turn and only dropped her when they were back in the room.

She took a deep breath fighting the urge to smack them both as she protested while straightening her crumpled shirt:

"Ok, you boys seriously have to rethink this whole routine you two 've got going on. You can't just keep picking me up and dragging me around wherever you damn well please just 'cause you feel like it. I'm not a toy. I do get to have say in these things."

"You can't go back home." Sam informed her.

"Why not? I've got the magic mojo thingy with me." She pointedly waved the hex bag in front of them.

"Cause the hellhounds already know you were there. Which means Lilith knows and she can come after you." Sam tried to convince her but he could see from the way she was vehemently shaking her head he wasn't getting through to her.

"I'm going to be fine. Don't -"

"She already tried." Dean's interruption earned him a glare from Amy.

Couldn't he just keep his big mouth shut? Of course not, this was Dean after all.

"What?" Sam's eyes grew large and quickly bounced from Dean to Amy and back again as he waited for one of them to elaborate.

"When I went back I found Garth trying to huff and puff the basement door down." Dean explained.

Sam focused on Amy and she crumbled under his accusing stare, dropping her gaze to the floor.

"Turns out he was possessed."

"What happened?!"

"I killed him, Amy got someone to look after Jackson and we hightailed out of there." Dean finished, but not before adding a sarcastic: "And Miss Lara Croft here wants to go back to that. Genius."

"And you were gonna let her." Sam redirected his intention back to Dean.

"She's a big girl. If she's feeling suicidal what am I supposed to do?"

"Um... How about stop her?" Sam asked sardonically.

"How? She won't listen. She's stubborn as a mule." Dean contoured.

"Hey! Mule in the room here." Amy piped up to remind the two brothers that she was indeed present and it wasn't very nice of them to speak of her as if she wasn't there.

Her intrusion seemed to snap the two boys out of their confrontation.

"You're staying with us." Sam basically announced.

Just like the Winchesters to unilaterally decide her fate without bothering to ask her opinion.

"No, I'm not." She retorted.

"See. Told you. Mule." Dean grumbled.

He was still shirtless. Why was he still shirtless?

'_Damn it, man! Put some clothes on.'_

Despite the distraction her reply was automatic:

"Pig."

Realising that forcing her wasn't the best course of action when it came to Amy, Sam stepped closer to her and made use of his trademark calm and understanding tone as he spoke:

"I get it that you're scared-"

"I'm not scared!" She immediately denied with an outraged frown.

It was a big fat lie. She was terrified but she wasn't about to give Dean the satisfaction of know this.

"Ok…" He quickly backtracked. "We're just worried about you. It's not safe out there. You don't know how to handle these things and even if you did…" He took a deep breath and started over: "Even experienced hunters wouldn't be able to get out of this alive. I mean, there is a reason why Dean and I are hiding."

"We're not hiding!" It was Dean's turn to correct Sam.

Both his brother and Amy gave him a sceptical look; Amy actually added a snort for good measure.

"We're…" He searched for the right euphemism. "… regrouping."

"You're hiding." Amy insisted.

"I give up!" Dean let his hands drop to his side in defeat, before taking his shirt and slipping it back on.

'_Finally!_' Amy thanked whatever gods were out there.

She just had to butt heads with him on everything.

"There is no talking to this woman." He complained, outstretching his hand and demanding: "My keys."

"Where are you going?" Sam questioned all the while handing him what he'd asked.

"Out. Away from her." That was all the information they got before he stormed out of the motel.

A few seconds later they could hear the Impala's engine rev up as it drove away.

Turning his attention back to Amy, Sam pleaded one more time.

"Stay. We need to make sure you're safe. At least for a little while, until we figure out what to do."

The expression on his face was genuine and heartfelt. She couldn't say no to those nostalgic puppy-dog eyes.

'_Damn the puppy-dog eyes._'

"Fine. I'll stay." She agreed reluctant and saw the smile take over his thin lips.

"Thank you."

"I'll just go and get a room." She said preparing to walk out when Sam's voice stopped her.

"You better stay here for the night."

When she turned on her heels she was sporting a sarcastic, plastic grin on her face.

"You're joking, right?"

He gave her a remorseful look.

"I'm sorry. But it would be safer. When you got here you didn't have the hex bag yet. Lilith may have tracked you."

She just stared at him in disbelief. She was really going to have to sleep in the same room with him and Dean; the operative word here being - Dean.

"It's too late to find another motel. We'll just stay here for the night, put up a few tricks to protect us and we'll leave in the morning. After that you can have your own room. I promise."

"But-"

"Amy..."

"Ok, fine. But we do have a little problem. Three of us, two bed." She pointed at the two mattresses.

"I'll sleep on the floor." Sam offered.

"No, you're not. I'm sleeping on the floor." She decided.

"Amy, I'm not letting you sleep on the floor." Sam explained.

"Neither am I."

"So what do you propose we do?"

"You stay on your side. I'll stay on my. We'll be fine just so long as it stays that way." She paused before continuing in a grave tone. "If I so much as get a hint that you are crossing over to my side during the night, I guarantee you you'll be singing soprano for a week. Deal?"

The angelic smile she was able to put on just a second after having threatened his family jewels scared him a little, but he nodded.

"Good. I cal dibs on the shower." She didn't even give him a chance to rebut as she raced into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

...........

Sam's brow furrowed as he watched her pour salt onto her fries. She'd been shaking that container for at least a minute and it wasn't as if it didn't working.

"Um... Isn't salt bad for you?" He questioned timidly.

"I have low blood-pressure. I get to eat as much salt as I want now. I'll worry about my kidneys later." She replied without looking up.

Sam shrugged and looked at the small screen of his phone again.

"Why do you keep checking that thing anyway?" Amy wondered.

"It's not like Dean not to answer his phone." Sam replied.

He was getting worried. Two hours had gone by since he'd left the motel and Sam had already called him three times and nothing.

Eventually they'd gotten hungry and had decided to eat that the diner next door.

They had almost finished now and still no sign of Dean.

Amy just shrank her shoulders at Sam and went about finishing her fries.

When she was done she pushed the plate away from her and had to contain a yawn. She was exhausted.

"We better go." Sam said asking for the check.

After they paid, they left the quaint little diner. The moment they stepped outside the cigarette was already in Amy's mouth.

"You really should consider quitting." Sam advised.

She sighed admitting.

"I know."

They silently made their way into the motel room. It was empty and there was no sign that Dean had been there.

They went on with their individual routines, taking turns in the bathroom and eventually it came time to get into bed.

Uncomfortably, each took their place on opposite side of the mattress and recalling her vivid threat, Sam made sure to put as much distance been himself and her as possible.

She smiled inwardly at his awkwardness. He was so shy it was cute.

_'Nothing like his smug brother.'_ She grumbled in her mind turning on her side and uttering goodnight before closing her eyes.

----------

He was frustrated. Just frustrated. He'd gone out in the hopes of finding some way to vent his pent up tension. The last few days had been suffocating and today had been the worse. He closed his eyes and fought the chill that ran down his spine as he remember what had happened that late afternoon on the side of the road.

The images seemed to attack him, bringing with them the same intensity as if he was actually reliving those moments.

He'd walked into a bar. When he'd failed to find any available woman he'd directed his attention to the group of young men.

Yeah, a fight would do. Get a few cuts and bruises and let the adrenaline flow. But no matter how much he tried to provoke the resident male population of the bar, no one seemed up for a brawl. So here he was, back at the motel, three hours later with just as much constrained energy as he'd had when he'd left. Maybe even worse, because the whole time he'd been out his brain had insisted on wondering what had happened once he'd left.

Had she given into Sam's pleas and opted to stay, or was she already gone.

Pushing the door open he stepped over the line of salt laid on the threshold, careful not to break it.

The room was dark and he could see the outline of a slumbering figure on the bed farthest from the door.

Stepping inside, he felt his way around his bed and reached for the lamp between them. Thankfully all the motels in America seemed to have more or less the same placement of furniture, so it wasn't long before he was able to switch the light on.

He caught his breath when, instead of Sam's sleeping face he was greeted by hers. She was asleep in his brother's bed. He found Sam lying on the other end of the mattress, with his back turned to her and the source of light, so it didn't seem to bother him when the brightness spread over the surfaces of the room.

Amy's face, on the other hand, scrunched up in disapproval and she muttered something unintelligible. He gawked at her, seizing the opportunity of her unconsciousness to actually look at her. Her skin was pale, as were her pouty lips, her reddish locks cascaded around the pillow, with a few mutinous threads came to cover her face.

When the glow refused to fade the creases between her brows became deeper and she intuitively turned around to face Sam.

Dean gulped at what she did next.

Even in her sleep her subconscious seemed attuned to the presence of another warm body laying next to her and she drew closer to it, flinging one arm over Sam's waist, cuddling up against his back, while her nose burrowed in the space between his shoulder blades.

For some odd reason Dean felt the intense urge to punch his brother.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

When he checked his wristwatch he was surprised to realise it was six in the morning and he had spent the last four hours staring at the couple slumbering on the bed next to his.

What shocked him even more was the fact that the resentment that he'd first felt when he'd seen her cuddle up against Sam's back was just as intense now as it had been then.

Was something going on between those two?

His mind only fuelled the doubt providing him with the memory of the generous amount of time they'd shared while he'd been stuck in the basement hooked up to the IV system.

He also recalled a certain complicity between them when they would speak. Her voice was always unruffled and even kind whenever she would talk to Sam. He remembered her laughing at his lame jokes, twirling her ponytail and smiling.

'_Yeah, definitely something..._'

Why else would she be willing to share a bed with him?

And then his eyes widened as a thought crossed his mind – Had they slept together?

His eyes closely examined them and their surrounding for some shred evidence to confirm his suspicion. From what little he could tell she was wearing a t-shirt and so was Sam, but their bottom part was concealed by the white sheet.

The question kept nagging him and he found himself anxiously yearning for sunrise. Maybe then he'd get some answers.

His breath hitched when she moved slightly.

Her soft, unintelligible burble reached his ears causing his pulse to hasten.

As she turned around he immediately closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. But his ears kept acutely vigilant.

Consciousness languidly cleared Sam's muddled mind when he felt something shift behind him.

A frown marred his brows as his lids allowed the growing brightness to filter in.

He cleared his throat and eventually opened his eyes. It took a few seconds for him to remember where he was.

Laying on his back he found Amy sleeping next to him. Relief washed over him when his sight zeroed in on his brother, apparently sleeping in his own bed.

Good. He was ok. He'd been worried.

Careful not wake either of them as he moved, slowly sat up and got out of bed.

He froze when he heard her moan.

His ears picked up on the rumpling of the sheets. Someone was moving. But which one of them?

And then he heard her moan and his mind provided him the maddening image of Sam being the one eliciting that sound from her.

This was unexplored territory for him and he didn't know how to deal with it.

Sure, he'd felt a little envious of his brother before, but it was mostly regarding his father's apparent predilection for the youngest Winchester offspring. He'd always shown more concern for Sam and even though the rational side of Dean could explain it with all sorts of circumstances, there was a small part of him that couldn't help feeling jealous.

But when it came to women? There was no trace of that emotion. If anything, Dean had always been luckier when it concerned the fairer sex. He even remembered one or two occasions in which he'd clearly broken the secret guy code and had trampled Sam's chances of scoring by hitting on the same girl.

_'Guess it's payback.'_

Payback? What was he thinking? He didn't even like Amy. She was insufferable; a snooty, know-it-all, spoiled rich girl who made his life wretched. No, he certainly didn't like her, let alone want her. So, ok, his body _did_ have a strong reaction to her. But it was only natural.

_'I mean, look at her.'_

She was drop-dead gorgeous. Plus there was the whole ring thing.

_'Yeah, that's it! It's the rings._' He told himself.

Sam moved again once he was sure he hadn't woken her and walked over to the bathroom.

Peering through a half open lid Dean checked and realised that it was Sam who was taking a shower, since Amy was still laying in bed.

Damn, she was beautiful!

He let out a frustrated sigh and grumpily turned his back to her frantically trying to erase the image of her from his mind. But it seemed to be burned into his retinas, because even though he now had his eyes firmly closed, he could still see her.

_'I hate magic.'_

_-------------------------_

They ate breakfast in silence.

Feeling the tension irradiating from Dean, Amy concentrated on the bowl of cereal she had ordered for herself while, across from her, Dean quite literally attacked his food.

By the way, who ate burgers for breakfast? Dean, apparently.

Sam furrowed the bridge of his nose at his brother's brutal assault on his odd choice for a morning meal.

"You know, the cow in the burger is already dead, no need to chew it to death." He attempted to lighten the mood.

The glare Dean threw his way actually scared him a bit.

What was up with Dean?

Something had obviously happened while he'd been out the previous night. It was the explanation Sam found for the older hunter's strange behaviour.

Knowing him well enough he decided to drop the subject. They would eventually come around to discussing it given enough time.

After five minutes of loud munching and unbearable silence, Amy couldn't help taking a stab at breaking the uncomfortable stillness and started:

"So... What's the plan?"

Dean didn't even acknowledge her as he continued massacring the beef while reading his newspaper.

She'd chosen to sit next to Sam.

Of course she would. The two little lovebirds just couldn't keep their distance. It was disgusting.

_'Get a room already.' _He yelled at them in his mind.

"Bobby's doing some digging on Lilith."

"Yeah, 'cause we haven't done that for the last two months." Dean snorted, never looking up.

Amy and Sam exchanged looks.

Boy, someone was cranky!

But both silently agreed to let it slide.

"Yeah, but now we have time." Sam pointed out.

"Gotcha!" Dean's sudden outburst caught them off guard and the two jumped a bit.

Sam glanced at the paper when Dean handed it to him with a triumphant grin plastered on his face.

"And what am I looking at?"

"Third body found completely drained of blood in Aguilar, Colorado." Dean explained with his usual swagger.

Sam cocked an eyebrow at his brother.

"You want to go on a vampire hunt."

Dean just beamed at his younger sibling.

"Dean, I don't know. Maybe we should just lay low for a while."

"Screw laying low. I need a hunt, man." Dean insisted.

"Dude, we can't go on a hunt with Amy." Sam was forced to point out the flaw in his plan.

Dean, however, seemed to be unable to find any impediment.

"Why not?"

Sam gawked in disbelief. Was he really asking why? Wasn't it obvious? Was he really going to make him say it out loud?

"She doesn't have any experience. We can't just drag her along."

They were doing it again - yapping along like she wasn't even there. What was she? Invisible or something?

Of course he was going to say that. The knight in shining armour ever ready to protect his damsel in distress… Sickening, is what it was.

Dean had to control himself to keep from saying something he'd regret.

Sprawling back on his side of the cabin they sat in Dean simply shrugged:

"Fine. I'll go by myself."

That was even more ridiculous!

"You can't go vampire hunting alone. Who knows how many are in the nest." Sam objected at his absurd idea.

"I think I can handle a few vampires. In case you don't remember I was doing this alone for a while before you joined in. I don't need your help."

There was a clear acidic undertone to the way he said it and Sam was fed up of his cranky attitude. He didn't know where it was coming from but enough was enough.

"Do I get to have a say in this?" Amy dared to butt in.

When her intrusion earned her a heated and synchronized "No!" from the two brothers, she sank down in her seat and grouchily buried her gaze in her cornflakes.

Best just to let the machos duke it out.

"Dude, what's gotten into you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dean feigned ignorance.

"I'm talking about you acting like something crawled up your ass and died or something. You've been crabby all morning, barely saying a word to us and when you do..." Sam leaned in and lowered his voice for the rest of the sentence when he noticed the neighbouring customers giving them suspicious sideway glances. "...you decide to announce you're going vampire hunting... on your own!"

"I never said I wanted to go in alone. You're the one who didn't want to come." Dean scornfully retorted.

"We can't go on a hunt with Amy!" Sam hissed between clenched teeth.

Dean was getting on his last nerve.

"And I agree. But I'm itching for some action. So I'm going."

Sam dropped his hands floppily at his side in a clear sign of defeat as he leaned back and stared accusingly at his brother.

Dean had lost it!

Sam knew him and the glint in his eyes told him he wasn't going to back down.

"I guess we're going to Hicksville Colorado." Sam gave in with an exasperated breath and Dean's chest automatically inflated with victorious pride.

So he didn't get the girl, but he did get his way.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

Dean's knuckles turned ashen when he tightened his grip on the wheel as a response to Sam peeking over his shoulder, in an obvious attempt to check on Amy yet again.

Unconsciously, he threw a glance at mirror and saw her sitting in the backseat, right behind him. Her eyes were glued to the screen of the laptop.

She was still rummaging through all of the data on vampires she could get her hands on. They'd been driving for five hours now and none of the three had said a word; the only sound besides the roar of the 67 Chevy was the nostalgic string of 80's metal rock coming from the old cassette player.

Eyes back on the road, Dean suppressed a snarl when Sam looked at her again.

'_Enough already!'_

Sam squirmed in his seat. He really didn't like people touching his stuff and that decree was even more zealous when it came to his laptop.

The last five hours had been pure torture for him, but he didn't feel comfortable saying anything so, instead, he was limited to checking on her every ten minutes. Well, the interval had started at ten and had gradually been shortened to every other minute.

Eventually, he couldn't control the fretfulness anymore and began with little ease:

"So, did you find what you were looking for?"

"Huh?" She mumbled looking up from the screen for the first time since she'd gotten into the car. "Almost." Her attention was back on the computer and Sam let out a frustrated breath.

"Man, there is a ton of lore on these things. How can you tell what's real?"

"Most of the stuff I've got in there is true." Sam replied, turning in the seat to face her.

Dean just kept his eyes on the road.

"I must say… kudos on your database. It's amazing!" She exclaimed, truly impressed by his work.

"Thanks." Sam said shyly and Dean rolled his eyes.

"You can cross reference almost everything. And the search options you put it? Ow! They're great!"

Sam blushed at her words.

"I'm impressed!"

_'I'm gagging.'_ Dean retorted in his mind at her praise.

She was gushing.

"It's all nice and pretty on paper, but when you actually meet one of these suckers it's a whole new ballgame, sweetheart!"

She ignored Dean's cynical comment and continued to eagerly search through the database.

"Top notch work, Sammy."

Dean smirked at her use of his personal nickname for his brother and waited for the usual response. He waited… And waited… And… got nothing.

He regarded the younger man with a frown.

Why wasn't he saying anything? No one could call him Sammy except him. That was the rule.

"It must have taken you forever to get this done. What software did you use, Sammy?"

There! She'd said it again. Now Sam was definitely going to correct her! Dean was sure of it. Again he waited but, instead, all he got was Sam yapping on about all different kinds of programs and soon the two might as well have been talking in Greek, with all the hi-tech jargon they were throwing around.

Sam was now basically stretched between the two front seats, reaching back, while Amy had scooted closer allowing him to show her something on the laptop. Their passionate conversation barely registered in Dean's technologically challenged brain.

He was still stuck on one thing:

_'He lets her call him Sammy? What the fuck?'_

Instinctively, his foot pressed on the gas peddle and the car jumped forwards, almost catapulting Sam into the backseat.

"Hey! Watch it, man!" Sam protested.

"Sorry, I thought you might want a little help getting back there."

_'Since you're already practically draped and drooling all over her.'_ Dean's brain added sardonically.

Sam's attention lingered on Dean for a few extra seconds until Amy's question broke his scrutiny:

"You were saying?"

"Um... Yeah. So you can just..."

And off they were... again, like they were in a private world of their own.

------------------------------------------------------------

Dean tapped his fingers on the mattress watching the two sitting at the table, fussing around the laptop.

"Could you keep the geek talk down? I'm trying to watch this." He pointed at the television set.

Sam leaned over to check what he was so interested in.

After a moment he questioned:

"And what's so fascinating about the matting habits of the African driver ant?"

The vicious look Dean threw at him told him that the teasing tone he'd used didn't sit well with his bother, so Sam returned to what he was doing.

Ten minutes later, Dean was up and putting his coat on.

"Where're you going?" Sam questioned.

"I'm hungry." Dean grumbled.

Checking his watch Sam realised it was already nine in the evening. When he looked back up again Dean was already halfway out the door.

"Wait up. We'll come with you." Sam shouted after him.

Dean didn't even bother to slowdown for them and Amy and Sam had to hastily gather their things in order to catch up with him.

Amy scowled as she was barely able to shut the car door, before Dean pulled out of the parking lot.

After an uncomfortable dinner, during which Dean had remained mute and focussed on wolfing down his meal, in a rerun of breakfast that morning, they had decided to go to a bar. Dean had suggested it, of course.

"You can't drink alcohol with the drugs you're taking." Amy chastised when Dean ordered a beer.

Turning to the waitress with lascivious smirk he changed his order:

"Make that a double shot of Jack."

The apron wearing brunette nodded returning his flirting with a lopsided grin of her own.

Sam's eyes widened.

"Dude!"

"Zip it, Sammy!"

Amy made a disgusted face when Dean bluntly stared at the waitress's retreating backside.

"What? You're not going to tell me I can't have sex either, are you?"

"Oh, you can have sex, provided you can get junior to cooperate after the chemical concoction you're about to make." Amy snorted back.

Her breath hitched when out of nowhere he leaned on the table coming dangerously close to her face as he drawled:

"Sweetheart, I've had my share of chemical concoctions and _it_ has _always_ been more than willing to cooperate."

The older Winchester got up and announced:

"I think I'll take my drink at the bar. Don't wait up for me."

With that he abandoned their table and meet up with their waitress, leaving Amy and Sam exchanging confused looks.

-------------

"Come on..." Amy cringed at her own burr.

She was aware she was zigzagging her way from the cab to the motel and it irked her.

Why did she take that last shot? She didn't even like whiskey. She was more of a tequila girl. She could never quite grasp why her body reacted this way to that particular distilled drink.

Tequila, gin, vodka, even absinth she could handle just fine, but whiskey... not really. The only times she'd gotten inebriated had been while drinking that fowl beverage.

She was also conscious that the reason for her faltering in her stride wasn't just the burden of an equally and possibly drunker Sam droopily hanging onto her. He did have a few extra shots.

_'Right... a few...'_

Man, he was heavy!

"I can do this..." She coaxed herself.

Damn, that door seemed to be getting farther and farther away. Was she walking backwards?

"Wha'?" Sam momentarily snapped out of his alcoholic stupor.

"Nothing."

Eventually, she reached her goal and after conquering the new and complicated task of unlocking the door she dragged herself and Sam into the room.

Dean wasn't there. Even in her drunken haze it was the first thing she thought of.

_'Probably off adding waitress number two hundred to his conquest list.'_

In her anger she accidentally dropped Sam and he floppily hit the floor with a loud thud.

Her eyes widened in shock and she was at his side in an instant.

"Oh, God! I'm sorry! Sammy, are you ok?"

"Umpf." Was all she got from him.

He looked ok.

_'Breathing... check. He's fine.'_

She was too tired and nauseous. The fact that the room had decided to start merrily twirling around wasn't helping either.

She needed to get some sleep. Now! She needed to get to her own room. She needed to know where that room was.

_'Damn it!'_

When they'd checked in they'd gone to the boys' room first. She'd been so caught up in her conversation with Sam, that she'd never gotten around to actually checking into her own room.

Her brow scrunched up as she desperately tried to recall what the guy at the front desk had told her.

She had absolutely no memory of any of it.

"What now?"

She wasn't too keen on the idea of just wobbling her way from door to door to check which lock her key fit into, especially since getting the guys key into its rightful lock had posed such a big challenge just a second ago.

And then she remembered:

"The key."

It would probably have an inscription, something that would tell her the number of her room.

"Right... key. Gotta find the key."

She whirled around and immediately regretted it as a powerful wave of nausea assaulted her.

_'Note to self - no sudden moves when you're drunk and queasy.'_

That permanently registered, she moved onto the next step in her brilliant plan to get herself into her own bed.

"Ok... keys, keys... where did I put the keys... purse!" She exclaimed triumphantly.

And she was onto the next phase - purse hunting.

With a blurred vision she searched the room and realised she had failed to turn on the light which meant the space was engulfed in hues of darkness, making it impossible for her to find anything.

"O-kay... onto yet another step - light switch. Where's the light switch?"

Was it just her or was this plan involving way to many steps and phases. This wasn't going to work. She could feel her legs start to give out from under her and her lids...

Man, they felt just as heavy as Sam had a minute ago.

"Sam!"

Her eyes darted towards his oddly positioned form on the carpet. One arm was crushed under his dead weight, the other sprawled over his head and his butt was kind of sticking up. That didn't look comfortable at all. He was still breathing though.

"Good."

Somewhere in her alcohol-drenched brain she vaguely recalled that breathing was a good sign, so that should mean he was ok.

Back to the plan then. What phase was she in? Or was it a step?

"Oh, screw the plan!"

She just wanted to get some sleep.

As if on autopilot she unfastened her jeans and discarded them to the floor along with her shoes. Next was the shirt.

She halted when she looked down.

"This is not my shirt." She noted.

Her eyes narrowed with the effort of trying to figure out to whom it belonged to and how she'd ended up in it.

After an eternity (her brain didn't run well on whiskey)... Sam. It was Sam's shirt. Why was she-?

Oh, right! He'd given it to her when the idiot that had been hitting on her all night at the bar had _accidentally_ spilled his drink on her.

Staring at the shirt she soon realised that it was the only item of clothing, apart from her underwear and socks, which she was wearing.

This would have to do as pyjamas for tonight.

"I just need to sleep."

It was the last conscious thought she had as she bee-lined her way to Sam's bed and got under the covers.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Seriously pissed off would be a euphemism if it were used to describe how he felt at that moment.

Hands firmly gripping the stirring wheel, he shook his head trying desperately to push away the embarrassing events of the previous night, but they came back to tease him mercilessly.

It seemed that ever since his near death experience, life had decided to throw him a series of emotional curve balls, this one probably being the worse. It was another first to add to the growing pile that had been hoarding up since three weeks ago.

It had started with, who else but... Amy, and the powerful and conflicting feelings her presence evoked in him.

Then came this ridiculous jealousy deal with Sam. Dean Winchester... jealous of his baby brother... over a _girl_? That would have been ludicrous... three weeks ago.

And now this. He'd heard a lot of guys saying it _- It's never happened to me!_ - and could tell instantly when they were lying. But when it came to him it was _actually_ true. It had never happened before. No mater how beaten up, drunk or stoned Dean got, junior had always been quite literarily up for it. Until tonight.

It just didn't seem to want to... cooperate, like Amy had put it.

Amy... Again!

God, he wanted to throw her off a cliff!

Maybe that had been it. She had warned that mixing the drugs and alcohol would cause impotenc-

_'No! No, no, no, no, don't even think about the word. Let's just go with... temporary failure to salute._'

Yeah, that sounded better in his head. Specially the word _temporary_. It would wear off, right? It was wasn't permanent or anything, was it? Oh, god! What if it was?

_'No, no, don't think about that either.'_

It was just temporary, and as long as he didn't drink anymore while on the drugs, everything would go back to normal.

_'Yeah, think positive, Dean._' He coaxed himself.

He tried to ignore the fact that he'd barely taken a sip from his double shot of whiskey before Erica, the sassy waitress, had whisked him off to the alley behind the bar.

He cringed as flashes of what had transpired, or better put, failed to transpire between them, flashed in front of his eyes.

After twenty minutes of an intense and highly R-rated make-out and groping session, with sign of life coming from downstairs, he'd given up and had just stormed off, leaving behind a hot and extremely bothered Erica.

He'd spent the rest of the night just driving around, plagued by unanswered questions that continued nagging him at this very moment.

By four in the morning his brain had tuned in and he'd realised just how much he'd strayed from the motel and had decided to turn around.

It was eight in the morning when he finally pulled up to the parking lot.

Slamming the car door shut, he stomped his way to his room. It was a good thing that Amy had gotten a room of her own, because if he saw her right now... well, something really bad would happen.

He yearned for a bed and some sleep.

Turning the knob, he walked inside to find Sam so far burrowed into the covers he couldn't even see him.

Stripping his jacket, he flung it towards the table, sat on the mattress and began undoing the laces of his boots.

After having discarded them, he proceeded by unzipping his jeans and dismissing them along with his jacket.

His t-shirt was halfway up his torso when he froze.

Wait! If Sam was sound asleep in bed, why was the water running in the bathroom?

His heart jumped to his throat at the moan coming from under the sheets.

It was a sound that he'd only recently been introduced to, but he'd effortlessly committed to memory. He had no doubt who it belonged to.

Amy.

The mysterious figure shifted and the covers slipped to reveal red corkscrew locks peeking from the top and a small, pale foot jutted out on the opposite end of the mattress. Those two things _certainly_ didn't belong to Sam.

It didn't take long for his sleep-deprived brain to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. When she moved again she provided him with the last bits of evidence he needed to complete the picture.

One - it was in fact Amy. Two - the shirt she wore was Sam's, specifically the one he'd been sporting the night before when he'd last seen him at the bar. And three - apparently that was all that she had on he realised finally as his eyes followed the trail of milky smooth skin from her tiny foot all the way to her now exposed thigh.

Dean found himself stuck in a duelling match between anger and lust.

She let out another distracting mewl giving lust a noticeable advantage. There was another bit of information his brain registered too - junior was officially back on his side and more than eager to salute.

_'Now you decide to wake up? Thanks.'_ He chastised a previously uncooperative part of his anatomy.

Well, at least that was good news. It wasn't broken.

He watched her hand languorously slip into the gap between to buttons of the shirt as she rubbed her belly and stretched out like a cat.

_'Yep, all fixed up!'_

The splashing of water stop but it didn't register in Dean's hormone soaked brain.

He gulped when he realised he was instinctively fisting his hands into the covers of his bed in order to keep from moving.

She nuzzled her face against the pillow, her features partially hidden by a couple of auburn string looping over her flushed cheeks. And then she blinked a couple of times and when she opened her eyes fully the first thing they focused on was a gawking Dean.

Her mind was still haze and barely aware of his Adam's apple painfully bobbing down and... by the time it came back up consciousness slammed into her and she sat up with a jolt.

"Dean!" Her voice was hoarse and laced with sleep.

Her widened eyes narrowed at the powerful throbbing brought forth by the sudden movement and her hand instantly found her pounding temple.

Her facial muscles contracted for a pain stricken expression and when her lids opened again their gazes met and her stomach flopped.

The sound of the bathroom door opening broke their silent contact and snapped the two into action.

Sam remained at the threshold. Bare-chested, soaked and wrapped in a towel, his hand was buried in a smaller one he'd been using to dry off his hair as he watched the pathetic spectacle.

Dean's eyes bounced around fretfully whilst Amy's fingers frenziedly clawed and pulled at the edges of Sam's oversized shirt, hastily tugging it down to cover as much of her legs as physically possible while she clumsily jumped out of bed and began gathering her things.

"Hey, Sam." She mumbled timidly, unable to meet his gaze.

"Hey." He greeted back regarding her from behind a confused frowned as she buzzed around the space.

Socks, shoes, jeans, purse, all these items pilled up in her arms overwhelming her and causing her to stumble when she reached for her luggage.

"You need help with that?" He questioned noticing her predicament.

"No!" She exclaimed jumpily. "I-I'll see you guys later." And she scurried out of there.

Her palpable mortification at having been caught in Sam's bed left no room for doubt in his mind - Sam and Amy had slept together.

Seemed it was time for yet another novelty in the emotions department. It wasn't anger or rage anymore. No, it wasn't disgust either. Why was his throat so tight and what was this sharp pain in his stomach?

"You're finally back? Where were you?"

Sam's questions, his lack of embarrassment and his unabashed lack of clothing for that matter put Dean back into rage mode.

"None of your God dam business." He growled pushing past Sam and slamming the bathroom door behind him.

"What the hell?" Sam was left wondering.

His fist pounded on the wooden structure as he bellowed.

"Time to go."

After a minute Amy stepped out into the hall, fully clothed and carrying her purse and bag.

Dean was already plodding his way to the car.

"Here. Let me help you with-" Sam's offer was cut shot.

"I'm ok." Amy's head dropped and she darted after Dean.

When he got to the Impala, Dean hurled the keys at Sam almost hitting him square in the face with them.

"You drive, I'll try to get some shut-eye in the back."

Silently, Amy and Sam took their seats in the front, while Dean sprawled in the back, dark glasses covering his eyes and soon they were back on the open road.

With a population count slightly over two hundred Aguilar was a ghost town.

After four hours of complete and suffocating silence they reached the main street, which was also basically the only street in the miniscule town.

Having failed to find a motel nearby, Sam parked in front of the local dinner and the three filled out of the car and walked inside.

Taking one of the booths, Sam sat on one side and Dean on the other, Amy lingered for a moment struggling between the lesser of two evils and eventually decided it was safer to sit next to the younger Winchester.

The matron waitress, apparently the only one in the joint, quickly came up to them.

"Good morning. What can I get for you folks?"

Her cheerful greeting was met by a dry and gruff retort from Dean:

"Coffee."

"Ok." She replied a little put off by the aggressive attitude of the sunglass-wearing stranger. "Anything else?"

Sam put on the sweetest voice he could muster to make up for his brother's rudeness.

"Coffee too, please and..." Glimpsing over the woman's large figure he added: "... a burger with fries."

"Same for me, thanks." Amy smiled weakly.

She hated this tension.

"And you, sir."

"Just coffee."

Dean wasn't going to eat lunch?

"Ok, coming right up." The waitress wrote down the order and throwing Dean one last sideways glance was about to leave when Sam's question halted her.

"Um... Excuse me. One more thing. We're planning on staying in town for a couple of days, can you tell me if there is a motel or something close by."

"Sorry, son. We don't get many tourists around these parts." She informed apologetically. "Nearest motel is about 20 miles south of here. But I think John has a room for rent, though."

"John?"

"He's the owner of the local watering hole, just outside town, about a mile north."

"Thanks." Sam once again strived to sound as nice as possible.

When the waitress was out of hearing range Sam took a deep breath and faced his brother.

"So what's the plan?"

"I don't you. You're the smartass and I'm just the dumb muscle in this operation."

"It was your idea to come on this hunt." Sam pointed out.

Even though Dean was still wearing his sunglasses he knew he was getting a glare from his big brother.

"I say we check with the good Doctor." Dean eventually spoke after an uncomfortable pause.

He fished out the crumpled piece of newspaper he'd stashed in his pocket and spread it out.

"Um... Some Chinese guy, Naoki Ikeda."

"Japanese."

At Amy's correction Dean finally took off his sunglasses, probably in order for her to see his eye roll.

"Whatever. He's the local doc."

"And what's the strategy? We didn't have time to get any fake ID's." Sam exposed the fault in his planning.

"Fine then. We break in."

Sam's eyes grew large at Dean's suggestion and he leaned in to whisper:

"We can't just break in. This is a small town. People will know."

"Then we say we're reporters."

"And what? He's supposed to just give us the info?"

Sam was getting on his last nerve.

"Ok, wonder-boy! What do you suggest?" Dean snapped at him and both and Amy and Sam froze.

"Dude, what's gotten into you lately, you-"

Seeing the fuming glint in Dean's eyes at the impending confrontation Amy had no choice but to step in:

"H-How about we just tell him the truth?"

Finding herself the object of two incredulous pair of eyes that told her she was insane, Amy elaborated:

"I'm not saying we go in there and say you guys are hunters."

"You were supposed to be a genius, right?" Dean's scoff was acidic at best and it pushed Amy to adopt a similar tone:

"I am."

"Yeah. I can tell." He ridiculed.

"We could just say we're occult buffs who go around country trying to find evidence of strange occurrences." She explained.

_'Not bad, might work.'_ Sam thought.

"That's never going to stick, sweetheart."

Amy was about to protest over his use of the word sweetheart but Sam was faster.

"It's our best choice."

"Figures you were going to agree with her." Dean growled just as the waitress came back with their orders.

Sam shook his head. He and Dean really needed to have a talk.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"I'm sorry to disappoint you folks, but there was nothing supernatural about those deaths." The physician explained walking into his office, the three strangers following suit.

"Are you sure? The newspaper said that all the blood had been drained from the victims. That seems a little odd, doesn't it?" Amy questioned while Dean and Sam looked on.

Both were still a little thrown by the way things had played out. Amy's plan, which had seemed ridiculous at first, had worked.

In all the years they had been doing this job, not once had it occurred to them to just waltz into a place and simply ask - "Do you think something supernatural is behind this?"

Amy couldn't have been more straightforward or blunt.

When she'd said it, the brothers had frozen in place, half expecting to be kicked out of the building. They were left gobsmacked when, instead, the doctor had smiled and had invited them in.

Was it really that simple? Had they been going about this all wrong? Were the elaborate schemes and false identities a pointless hassle?

Apparently so, because the Asian man was currently rummaging through his files. Fishing one out he dropped it onto the desk and Amy came to stand next to him while he proceeded to open it and gladly allow her to look through it.

The two just stood there for a couple of seconds, scratching their heads.

He was actually showing her the pictures of the maimed corpses!

"So what do you think caused these wounds?" Sam gradually slipped out of his stupor.

"I'm not sure. My best bet? Coyotes." The doctor shrugged, putting away the file.

"I thought coyotes are opportunistic hunters. They prey on small mammals, domestic pets, livestock and such. An attack on a human is extremely rare, let alone three in such a short amount of time." Amy countered getting one last glimpse of an autopsy photo.

"I know. That's why I think it's an infected coyote."

It could be.

Dean let his shoulders drop. So there was no hunt here? Great, he was going to have to get through another day of pent up energy. He really wanted to kill something. He needed to kill something. He was even willing to forgo the idea of taking down an entire nest; all he asked was for one measly vampire, just one beheading; that would get him through.

_'Just one.'_

For a split second the perception of just how warped he truly was crossed his mind. But it was just for a split second.

"You mean rabies?" Amy questioned.

The doctor nodded and Dean glanced at her. She didn't look convinced at all.

"Then how did all this supernatural talk in the newspaper come about?" She continued to inquire.

"Probably has to do with the group of young kids that just moved into town."

Dean and Sam's attention peaked at the mention of a group.

"What about these kids?" It was Dean's turn to ask.

"They aren't exactly the poster children for the all American youth."

"What do you mean?" Sam prodded.

"They dress in black, wear heavy make up and stay in most of the day, only coming out at night to hang out at John's. Small town folks get suspicious of any one who acts or looks different and people talk." The doctor explained leaning against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Talk?" Dean popped an eyebrow at him.

"You know, that they are Devil worshipers, that they murdered these people as part of a Satanic ritual." Dr. Ikeda chuckled at the absurdity of what he was about to say next: "There was actual talk of vampires."

Dean and Sam couldn't help exchanging a look at that.

"I know about small town people, but why would they think that these kids did this?" Amy spoke again.

"Like I said, people around here are wary of strangers. The deaths just happened to occur a few days after they first showed up so..." He trailed off with yet another shrug.

"So you definitely think it was coyotes?" Amy made sure.

"Yes. I certainly don't think any human could have done that."

On that Amy had do agree. There was clear evidence of fangs in some of those pictures.

"Ok, so I guess this was a wild goose chase." Suddenly, Dean seemed anxious to leave.

"I guess so." The doctor agreed.

"But don't you think-" Amy tried to probe but Dean cut her off.

"We won't be taking anymore of your time."

"I just want to ask-"

Dean's hand wrapped around her arm and gave her a not so gently tug as he began walking towards the exit, practically dragging her along.

"Thanks for your help, doc."

"You're welcome." He replied escorting them towards the front door.

Once they were outside and the door had been closed, Amy yanked her arm free of Dean's grasp.

"Hey, I wasn't done yet."

"Yes, you were." He said matter-of-factly with a nod. "Let's go. We've got baddies to bag."

Dean was way too happy with the prospect of a hunt.

"You still think it's vampires?" Sam spoke up as he and Amy trailed after him in the direction of the car.

"What else?"

"I'm not sure. Did you see those marks? That didn't look like a vampire had done them. The corpse was completely mutilated. Vampires don't usually do that." Sam expressed his doubts.

"Maybe they've got rabies." Dean threw in.

Amy halted in mid stride at that.

"A vampire with rabies?"

Dean turned to find her standing in the middle of the street, arms defiantly crossed over her chest.

"Why not?"

"A vampire? With rabies? Last time I checked rabies is an infectious disease. Vampires don't get sick, remember?" She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all.

She was just intent on making his life miserable, wasn't she? Not only had she apparently ruined his chances at ever having sex again because of that stupid ring but now she wanted to take away from him his only other tension outlet?

With barely contained fury he closed the distance between them to tower over her.

Why did he keep doing that? That only served to piss her off. So he was taller than her? So what? Like that was such a major accomplishment. Sam was way taller!

"What? You read a few things and suddenly you're an expert on vampires? Sweetie, I've been doing this for a while. It's vampires." He insisted.

Enough with the demeaning nickname thing, already!

"Really?" She replied snidely.

"Yeah." He stared down on her.

Sam opted to butt out. The way those two stood toe to toe, glaring at each other he just knew that if he opened his mouth he'd get the short end of that stick.

"Well, explain to me one thing, honey."

"Anything, sugar." He retorted with equal conceit.

"There were post-mortem bite marks on that corpse."

"So?"

What was she getting at?

"Dead man's blood."

He just looked at her with a blank expression.

"Vampires can't drink from a dead body." Sam explained, tired of watching their confrontation.

Dean threw daggers at him.

_'I knew I should have butt out.'_

"Maybe they just nibbled at the guy for kicks." Dean's excuses were becoming more and more preposterous in his desperation to ignore what was obvious.

"Is there even a shred of a thought process going on in that thick head of yours before you speak?" Amy's question redirected Dean's anger towards her.

"It's vampires!" He stated with a steely glower. "Period. Now, let's go!"

And off he went.

She took sex away from him; she wasn't going to take hunting too. No way!

"Where are we going?" Amy yelled at his retreating form.

"To get a room at John's." He bellowed back, not bothering to look at her.

"Maybe they are just a bunch of Goth kids." Sam tried to sound as little confrontational as possible.

It didn't work.

"Why are you always on her side?!" Dean snapped, leaning on the counter as they waited for the bartender.

When the three had entered the half empty establishment, the few patrons scattered over the various wooden tables had all turned to inspect the newly arrived outsiders.

Feeling uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny, Amy had quickly excused herself and scampered toward the bathroom, while Dean and Sam had walked up to the bar.

"I'm not."

"Yeah, right." Dean snorted and Sam frowned, trying to figure out what was going on inside his brother's head.

"Come on Sammy, what would a bunch of Marylyn Manson wannabes be doing in Hicksville USA?"

"I don't know, I'm just saying we should consider the possibility that maybe there is nothing going on here." Sam tried to make a point.

"Whatever…"

"Can I help you folks?"

The two Winchester boys turned to meet the old man standing behind the bar.

"Yes. We were just passing through and Hannah over at the diner said you had rooms for rent?" Sam beamed politely.

He was surprised when his usually quite appealing smile failed to have the desired effect on the man. Instead of a typical response, he got a wary, dissecting look from him.

"Only got one room." The man practically grumbled as he eyed them suspiciously.

One room. Did that mean one bed?

_'O-oh!'_ Dean's mind piped up.

Sharing a bed with… her. Not good, not good at all!

"We'll take it." Sam accepted.

The man didn't seem to be willing to close the deal as he continued to inspect them; his eyes dragging from Dean to Sam and then back again.

Ok, that was starting to annoy Dean. What was up with this guy?

"Is there a problem, sir?" Sam asked innocently.

The man took a deep breath before speaking.

"Look, we are all good, God fearing Christian folk here and we have no problem with people who are… um…" He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "… different, but I can't let you have the room."

"Why not?" Dean scowled, clearly aggravated.

"Like I said, what you people do is up to you and I got no beef with it. But that don't mean I have to condone it. I can't have that kind of… _alternative_ _lifestyle_ going on under my roof.

Both Dean and Sam frowned.

What did he mean by _you_ _people_? And _alternative_ _lifestyle_?

It was a slow process, but gradually both eventually grasped what the man was ineptly trying to imply. And when they did:

"Wha'?"

"No, you got it wrong-"

"We're not-

"We don't-"

The two fumbled clumsily over the words.

"Look, maybe you should just-"

"But we're telling you-"

Dean froze when he felt two slender arms wrap around his waist, a clearly female chest pressing against his back topped by a bony jaw settling just above his shoulder blade.

His entire body became instantly stiff while his mind went '_gah_!'.

If you asked him he wouldn't know how to explain it, but he didn't have to hear the voice coming from behind his shoulder or look down to see the recognizable ring over his chest to know who was currently hugging him from behind.

His lids fluttered a bit and he struggled to keep them open at her sweet and sultry tone:

"Hey, sweetie. Did you get us a room?"

As she spoke, Amy made sure to give the bartender a clear view of her and Dean's matching bands by taking Dean's hand into her own and entwining their fingers.

He was supposed to speak now, wasn't he? He should be saying something.

_'Talk, damn it!'_

Considering that keeping an even breathing pattern was such a Herculean task, he didn't think speaking was something he would be able to tackle right about now.

Thankfully, she moved. Dean faltered in his stool when she let go to stand between him and Sam and face the bar owner.

"Hi. I'm Amy Jameson. This is my husband Dean and my brother in law, Sam."

Suddenly, the man's demeanour changed completely and a smile appeared on his wrinkled face for the first time as he gladly accepted Amy's outstretched hand.

"John Landon, nice to meet you, Mrs. Jameson."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Landon."

For the second time that day, Dean and Sam were left to pick up their jaws. Amy had a strange way of bringing out the more hospitable side of people. First the doc, now the bar owner?

"So, do we have a place to stay while we're in town?" She questioned with a toothy smile.

"Unfortunately I only got that one room. You three ain't gonna fit in that bed." He said apologetically.

Dean watched as Amy's lower lip jutted out for a sulk and gulped.

Clearly bothered by the young woman's pout the man quickly devised an alternative.

"I'll tell you what. How long you folks plannin' on staying?"

"Oh, just a couple of days, isn't it, sweetie?" She beamed at Dean and he could barely recognise her.

When she cuddled up to against him, wrapping herself around his arm he felt a synchronized spasm take over every single muscle in his body, effectively paralyzing him. And when he consequentially failed to nod, Sam hurriedly stepped in:

"Yeah. Just a couple of days."

"In that case you," He turned towards Sam. "can stay in my son's room. He's gone hunting for a few days."

It was Amy's turn to freeze.

Did that mean that she and Dean were-

"And you two can have the room upstairs." The old man finished.

Yep! That's exactly what it meant - she and Dean were going to have to share a room.

_'Great… just perfect…'_ She whined mentally.

_'There goes another night's sleep.'_ Dean sighed inwardly.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Mr. Landon's hand slipped behind the counter for a second and when it reappeared it was holding a key.

"Cary!" He bellowed over his shoulder.

There was no reply and he called again. When he failed to get a response yet again he excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen, in the back. Once he was out of sight Sam turned to Amy:

"Jameson?"

"There was a poster of Jenna Jameson in one of the bathroom stalls."

"In the women's bathroom?"

"I went to the men's; women's bathroom was out of order." She said nonchalantly, but at the expression on Dean and Sam's faces she was forced to add defensively: "What? I really needed to go!"

At that moment Mr. Landon re-emerged closely followed by a sulking young girl.

She was a short, blonde, tiny little thing who couldn't be more than seventeen.

"This is my daughter Cary. Cary, this is Dean Jameson, his wife Amy and his brother, Sam."

The teenager's demeanour change almost instantly when she looked up and met the three strangers. Her eyes gradually shifted from Sam, lingering for a few appreciative moments, before quickly skipping over Amy to land right on Dean and, apparently, becoming stuck, because her gaze remained fixed on the older hunter all throughout the rest of their interaction.

Her lips curled for what Amy assumed was an attempt at a flirty smirk. Following Cary's stare Amy found Dean awkwardly smiling back and felt the intense need to gag.

"Mr and Mrs Jameson are staying in the room upstairs. Could you please show them where it is?" He asked handing her the key.

"Sure thing, dad." She replied with a sugary tone all the while bluntly leering at Dean.

The need to gag was replaced by a powerful urge to smack the girl upside her head.

Hadn't her father just introduced them as husband and wife? Apparently the community had a problem with renting rooms to gay couples but the whole '_thou shalt not commit adultery'_ part of the bible? Not so much, no.

"You can come with me, son." Mr. Landon said turning to Sam. "Your room is in the back."

"I'll see you guys in a couple." Sam announced before walking after Mr. Landon.

Dean and Amy, on the other hand, followed Cary up the stairs. Amy rolled her eyes as the teenager purposefully gave her hips and extra sway with each step.

Walking down a long hall Cary stopped at the end and unlocked the door.

Both Amy and Dean sighed inwardly when their suspicions were confirmed and the wooden structure swung open to reveal just one bed. But it got worse. It wasn't even a queen sized mattress.

_'Crap!_' Amy grumbled mentally.

"The room's kinda cramped but at least you get your own bathroom." She pointed at the door to the right.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the three as Cary, having already done her job refused to leave and remained with her feet firmly planted on the ground, shamelessly batting her eyes at Dean, while the older Winchester gauchely grinned back at her.

After about a couple of minutes of this, Amy had had enough and candidly inquired:

"Have you got something in your eyes, _kid_?"

Amy made sure to emphasize the word _kid_ and it brought the point home as Dean's cheeks suddenly acquired a slight shade of red while Cary glared daggers at Amy.

"No." Cary retorted.

"Well, fine then. Thanks for showing us to our room. My _husband_ and I really appreciate it."

Cary simply huffed and gruffly handed Amy the keys. Turning her attention to Dean once again, her voice was low and hoarse:

"If you need anything… my room is just a across the hall."

"Ok." Dean smirked back as he watched the young girl leave and the door close behind her.

A disapproving humph coming from Amy caused him to look at her.

"What?"

"You're a sad little man, you know that Winchester?" She snorted picking up her duffle bag and setting it on the nightstand closest to the door.

"What can I say? Women love me." His lips pulled to the side for a lopsided grin.

Dropping the shirt she'd taken out of her backpack she chuckled and pinned him with an accusing eyebrow lift:

"Women?"

"Yeah." He retorted smugly.

She stepped closer to him. Her tone was patronizing, like she was talking to a five year old child:

"Can you say jailbait?"

"Can you shut up?" His voice mimicked her condescending conduct.

"Oh, I can shut up. No problem." She feigned indifference as she went back to getting her things out of her duffle bag and placing them inside the nightstand drawer. "But I gotta say it's kinda pathetic."

Her use of the word '_pathetic'_ hit a nerve, causing his pulse to accelerate.

"Pathetic?" He growled.

The fact that she gingerly continued to go about her business only served to push his buttons further.

"Are you that desperate for sex you'll resort to cradle snatching?"

Dean snapped at the sharp-tasting question and before he realised he was spinning her around forcing her to face him; his tight grip on her arm kept her in place.

Desperate for sex?! Hell, yeah he was desperate! He couldn't remember the last time he'd _had_ sex. During the last months of his life he'd been too busy trying to find a way to save his ass, and now that said ass was safe, he didn't seem to be able to get any.

And whose fault was that? The same maddening, haughty brat that was calling him pathetic and desperate!

"I'm not desperate.' He bit out the words.

"So it's a matter of preference then?" She began, daringly meeting his fierce glower. "Never thought of you as a perv, but hey, if that's the only way you can get your-"

Her rant was cut short when he jerked her arm and she consequently crashed into his chest.

"I have no problem in... that area. It was just that one time and it was because of the drugs _you_ pumped into me." He blurted out unintentionally, momentarily blinded by his rage and frustration.

She halted and watched him closely.

"What are you talking about?"

He couldn't hold her gaze as embarrassment took over and instantly dropped her arm to walk around the bed.

"Nothing."

"Are you talking about the painkillers and the antibiotics?" Her eyes followed him as he tensely tugged at his backpack and plopped it on the bed; his stare now shamefully buried in its contents.

When he didn't say anything, she came closer.

"Look, those drugs have a few side effects but impotency-"

He glared at her with wide eyes as he roared:

"I'm not impotent!"

The ferocity of his glare caused her heart to jump to her throat.

Dean could be scary when he wanted and she couldn't help the stutter:

"I-I'm not saying you are."

"It was the alcohol." He justified trying hard to calm himself down.

It was unfeasible with her around him. He just seemed unable to relax in her presence.

"Well, actually impotency-"

"Will you stop saying that word?!" He bellowed angrily and she jolted back.

"It's the clinical term for it." She argued timidly.

"Well, come up with a new one!" He grumbled. "Or better yet. Let's just drop it, ok?"

"It's just that… um… that…." She searched her brain for an alternative to the newly forbidden word and came up empty, so she went for: "…particular problem is not a side effect of mixing alcohol and painkiller."

He turned to face her.

"But you said…"

She visibly shrank guiltily.

"I was kind of yanking your chain."

"For future reference, you don't yank a guy's chain over that." He dangerously narrowed his eyes at her.

"Duly noted." She raised her palms in capitulation.

"Good."

The subject seemingly buried, the two returned to what they had previously been doing.

After about a minute of grave stillness Amy couldn't help breaking it:

"You've been under a lot of stress lately, it's natural-"

He was in her face before she could finish her sentence and she gasped at his speed.

"It's not natural." He hissed and she could feel his breath on her flushed cheek.

Too close. He was too close for comfort.

"Not with me." He added.

She swallowed dryly, but never broke eye contact.

"I'm just saying-"

"Are you deaf or something? I never… ever… had a problem in that department."

"Not even-"

"Never."

She tried for a chuckle, to lighten the mood:

"Come on, you must have-"

He cut her off again with a low:

"Never."

"Oh…"

Another uncomfortable gulp from her and the two remained frozen, silent and still toe-to-toe, until the door to the bedroom opened and the they turned to find Sam at the threshold.

The tension in the small space was overwhelming and palpable to him as he asked:

"Everything ok?"

"Fine." The two replied in unison finally putting some distance between them.

"O-kay."

Clearly it wasn't fine.

--------------

"So let me get this straight. Your brilliant plan is to just sit here and wait for the Charles Manson groupies, that it?" Amy summarized taking a sip of her beer.

"Doc said that they hang out here all the time, so yeah, that's the plan." Dean replied grouchily.

Amy let out a frustrated breath. They'd been waiting the whole afternoon and apparently would keep doing that all the way into the night. It was nine pm and still no sign of the would be vampires.

"I just think-"

"Oh, that's a shocker. You. Thinking." Dean snorted keeping his eyes on the front door of the small bar.

"It's a nasty by-product of having a brain and _actually_ using it for a change." Amy bit back venomously.

Sam sat back and watched the two wearily. They'd been at each others throats ever since they'd first laid eyes on each other. Even as kids. But it seemed to gradually be getting worse, especially since he'd interrupted their latest face off. They'd spent the entire afternoon throwing snide remarks at one another.

It was getting tiresome.

"Honey, you don't know the first thing about hunting, so don't try to pretend you do." He spoke condescendingly.

"I might not have seen one of these things in the flesh, but I've seen what they can do. I've patched up enough hunters in my day to know the markings of a vampire and I'm telling you that those wounds we saw weren't done by one." She responded with equal animosity. "The last victim's burial is tomorrow. I say we go check out the corpse at the funeral home."

"What do you think Sam?"

He froze as two demanding pair of eyes pinned him for an answer.

Oh, no, they weren't dragging him into their stupid squabbling.

"I don't know."

"Don't try to weasel yourself out of this one. I know you're not buying into this whole vampire business." Amy prodded him.

He met Dean's eyes and shank in his seat.

"Sometimes vampires have different feeding patterns." He said meekly and Amy practically pounced on him.

"What?!"

"A-ha!" Dean gloated triumphantly, patting Sam's arm. "Thanks, Sammy. I knew I could count on my little brother to back me up."

"You've got to be kidding me. Come on, Sammy, I know you agree with me."

"No, he doesn't." Dean growled. "And stop calling him Sammy."

"What? You've go copyright, or something?"

"Yeah. I do!"

She rolled her eyes at Dean and turned her attention to his younger brother.

"Sammy…" She coaxed.

"The bite marks were different."

Amy leaned back and crossed her arms with a victorious smirk.

"You can't change your mind!" Dean protested.

"I didn't. I'm just saying I'm not sure."

"Well, you gotta choose." Dean announced and once again the two stared at Sam intensely; waiting.

Sam's restlessly glanced from one to the other.

Why did he have to choose? He was clearly more inclined to agree with Amy, but he was sure that if he voiced his honest opinion his brother would have a coronary.

After a long silence he sighed:

"Look, could you just keep me out of whatever you've got going on?"

The two went rigid.

"N-nothing's going on." Amy quickly stammered.

"Yeah, nothing." Dean anxiously concurred.

"You're joking, right?" Sam scoffed, tired of the two of them and their lunacy. "That's the first thing you've agreed on."

Dean and Amy shifted uncomfortably in their seats under the accusation.

"Ever!" Sam added. "You can't go two minutes without being at each other's throats and personally it's getting on my nerves! He says black, you say white. It's like you're doing it on purpose! We're in a shit load of trouble and all you two can think about is how to piss each other off."

Dean could spot the telltale signs that indicated Sam was going into rant mode.

"We've got demons on our tails and _you_ decide it's the perfect time for a hunt."

Amy couldn't help smirking. It didn't last long tough as Sam's finger pointing targeted her.

"And you! Every time he does something you have a smartass quip ready to fire. I don't know what's going on, but whatever it is? Deal with it!" And with that he got up. "I need another beer."

"See what you did?" Dean grumbled.

"I did? You started it."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

The two glared at each other but said nothing, both picking up their respective bottles and taking a long, soothing drag from their cold beverages.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**Author's Note:**

Thanks for all of your support guys. This is my first Supernatural fanfic and I'm glad you guys are liking it. Ziggy, Robo-Kyo thanks for the heads up on the repeating chapter 17, by the way.

As for this chapter, it comes with an MA warning. I had already put up a MA warning in the beginning of this fic, but here it is again. So if you're under 18, please go away and come back when you're old enough to read this. I don't want to be responsible for the corruption of our youth. ;)

The rest… enjoy!

"Now what?" Amy questioned, surreptitiously glancing at the newly arrived group.

They definitely stood out in the crowd like a sore thumb; dressed head to toe in black and every single one of them sporting heavy dark make up on their pale faces, including the men.

Dean had counted five of them - three men, two women – but he was willing to bet there were more of them. Noting that one of the females was farthest from the group he saw his chance and took it.

"It's bait time." Dean announced, getting up with a cocky smirk and walking over to the bar to sit next to the loner.

"What does he mean by bait?" Amy turned to Sam for an explanation.

He simply shook his head. He hated this plan.

"You don't wanna know."

"Um… yeah, I do." She insisted.

"He's gonna try to draw her away from the others."

"How?"

Sam pointedly raised an eyebrow tilting his head and she followed the direction he'd indicated to find the older Winchester engaged in a major flirting session with the raven-haired woman at the bar. She seemed to be buying into whatever crap he was feeding her because she was currently twirling her hair and making mooneyes at him.

Amy's facial muscles contracted for a disgusted flinch at the spectacle.

"So… where are you from?" He used his best sultry voice.

"Here and there." She purred back.

Man, either he was seriously out of practice or he'd lost his ability to flirt 'cause he really couldn't think of a witty comeback for that one, so he settled for a swaggering smirk.

It worked because she leered back at him as she leaned in to whisper:

"Where are _you_ from?"

What was he supposed to say? Kansas just didn't seem like an appropriate reply when you're trying to pick up a girl. He candidly plagiarized her:

"Here and there."

That was so lame! Still she continued to smile and sensually slant so close towards him he had difficulty keeping his eyes from crossing. He willed himself not to give into the impulse to back up and kept still, even though he was beginning to see double.

"Are we just gonna sit here?" Amy asked for the third time, arms gravely crossed over her chest.

"He has to make sure she's a vampire."

"And how's that going to happen?"

"Once he gets her alone, if she attacks him…"

"That's it?!" Amy frowned at the pitiable arrangement. "He lures her into the back alley and waits to see if she'll try to take a bite out of him?"

Out loud it really did sound ridiculous, but that's how they always went about it and it usually worked. So Sam just nodded pathetically.

Amy looked over at Dean to see the black-clad girl nuzzle against his neck. His eyes were half closed and his mouth half open. Amy promptly stood up.

"I'm going to get some air."

"But…" Sam trailer off, unable to get a word in as she stormed out of the bar.

He pondered going after her, but he knew he couldn't. He needed to stay were he was in order to watch his brother's back.

_'Damn it, Amy!'_

_-----_

It wasn't long before he convinced Marilyn - that was her name - to join him for a walk. It turned out to be a very short one, because the moment they stepped out the back door of the bar she jumped him.

When her mouth attacked his neck he braced himself for the sharp fangs about to rip through his skin. His fingers gripped the handle of the gun he had shoved in the back of his jeans, ready to draw the weapon out when, instead of the mortal bite he felt blunt teeth nibbling and hungry lips sucking at his jugular.

Ok, maybe this vampire wanted to play first! He wasn't a big fan of making out with dead things. But it was a dirty job and somebody had to do it. So he pushed her up against the nearest wall, hands gripping her hips and pinning them to the flat surface as he assaulted her mouth.

Her ragged pants and mewls overwhelmed the silent alley while he dragged his mouth over the line of her jaw until he reached her neck.

"Yes!" She moaned, one leg hooking itself around his hip, pulling him into her.

He went about this almost mechanically and told himself that the reason his body seemed completely indifferent to the purring woman clawing at his back was because of the fact that she was a vampire.

He hated those creatures and that was why her groaning was becoming increasingly annoying, why the way she was rubbing her pelvis against his made him want to push her away, why her scent seemed to be so intense it was nauseating, why her hair was way too dark for his liking, as were her eyes, by the way. They should have been green. That was why the way she was whimpering '_Dean_' instead of '_Winchester' _was so off putting, why-

_'Wait? Green?_' His mind backtracked.

What was wrong with blue eyes? Blue eyes were just as beautiful as green if not better. He liked blue eyes. And since when did he like women calling him by his last name? No one called him by his last name except-

Her!

'_Again!?'_

God, how was it that she could ruin things for him even when she was nowhere in sight? She was haunting him! Haunting him and making him miserable!

"Is everything alright?"

The ragged voice brought him back to reality and he refocused his eyes too see a dishevelled Marilyn staring wide-eyed at him. Apparently, in his mental rant he had stopped his ministrations and Goth girl wasn't too happy about it.

"Um… Sorry." He apologized oddly.

Marilyn, however, was all for putting this behind them as she prepared to jump him again.

Dean barely had a chance to take a breath before her mouth was on his.

The feel of her tongue forcefully wedging its way into his mouth made him want to hurl.

'_It's because you know she's a vampire. That's all._' He kept trying to fool himself.

By the way, why wasn't she trying to suck the life out of him? She'd had her fun, right?

And then Marilyn dropped to her knees in front of him. The metallic resonance of a zipper sliding open echoed in the alley and Dean promptly noted that, as far as Marilyn was concerned, there would be sucking being done that night, but it was a more human and terribly more mundane variety of suckage.

It irked him to have to admit Amy had been right. These guys weren't vampires, not even close. God, he wasn't going to hear the end of it, was it? He could just see her now, a victorious smirk on her lips, her chin raised high in arrogant defiance, her arms crossed over her chest, cocking an all-knowing eyebrow at him.

He felt his body react to the image in his mind and he doubled over. He braced the palm of his hand against the wall for balance when the combination of the mental picture with whatever it was Marilyn was doing down there caused his knees to buckle.

He shouldn't be doing this. This was wrong on way too many levels, even if the woman currently licking her way down his stomach wasn't a vampire. But man, he just missed this so much.

_'Just for a little bit.'_ He told himself.

He made the mistake of opening his heavy lids to find a dark haired head hovering an inch in front of his crotch and immediately sensed his desire waning.

Quickly closing them again, he summoned back the image he'd been picturing before.

He had her pinned against a wall, much like he'd done just a few moments before with Marilyn, except Amy wasn't as willing or submissive as she'd been.

In his mind, Amy responded physically with the same razor-sharp fierceness that branded her brash behaviour during their sparring. She pushed him back, causing him to stagger and drop to the ground on his back. Suddenly, she was straddling him, ripping his shirt open and holding his wrists above his head, her face lingering inches from his, her red hair cascading around them. And then she gave him that self-righteous smirk of hers snapping him into action. Before she could stop him, he'd flipped them over and his hips nestled between her thighs. She violently bucked in a frustrated attempt to get him off of her. Their eyes met and there it was, that predatory glint in her emerald eyes, daring him, taunting him. She'd show her. He'd wipe that smirk off her face.

His mouth opened greedily over hers; his tongue pushing its way in, despite her moaned objections. After a few seconds though, her bucking hips subsided and her own tongue pushed past his lips, her nails trailed down his chest…

"Christ! Fuck!" He gasped as Marilyn worked her mouth over him, pulling and sucking eagerly causing him to falter and press his forehead against the wall for support.

"You like that, baby."

_'Please don't talk.'_

She was going to ruin this. This that was so wrong. God, he was fantasizing about someone he hated. Even worse! He was fantasizing about his brother's girlfriend.

The guilt began creeping in. He couldn't do this to Sam.

"Stop…" He was barely able to get the word out, his panting was too hard.

Either she didn't hear him, or she didn't want to, because her head continued to bob back a forth.

His hand was on her hair trying to halt her when, all of a sudden, all of the air seemed to be sucked out of his lungs and his stomach spasmed brutally, the tart taste of acid stabbed his tongue.

His eyes grew large at the suffocating fear that gripped him without warning.

He recognized the feeling immediately, even though he'd only felt it once, two days before, as he was driving behind Bobby's truck. That day it had made him do a sharp u-turn and drive back to Amy's house.

Sam had asked him before why he'd suddenly decided to go back. He'd lied, saying he'd forgotten something and thankfully his brother had accepted his excuse at face value. He didn't even question it, simply remarked on how lucky they'd been that he'd forgotten something. If it hadn't been for that Amy would have been dead.

_'Lucky my ass!'_

The truth was that he'd felt her fear that day. And he was feeling it now.

Amy was in trouble and that thought pushed him into action.

"Sorry, I gotta go." Dean said dismissively.

Awkwardly puling way from Marilyn, he stepped back and zipped his jeans back up before racing into the bar.

His panicky eyes scanned the room for Sam, eventually finding him standing by a table.

"Dean?" He frowned. "I was about to-"

He didn't give him time to finish.

"Where is she?"

"What? The girl? I thought she was-"

"Amy! Where's Amy?"

The desperation in his brother's voice alarmed Sam.

"She said she needed some air."

"You let her go?!" The older Winchester questioned in disbelief.

"I tried to stop her, but she just stormed out of here. Dean, what's going on?"

"We have to find her."

He was out the door. After a couple of seconds Sam was able to gather himself and followed his brother out of the bar and into the empty, murky street.

There was no sign of her.

"What's going on, Dean?" Sam asked again as he trailed after his brother who seemed to be aimlessly wandering the main street.

"Where is she, damn it? Amy!" He called out. "AMY!"

Sam's heartbeat accelerated at the palpable anxiety emanating from Dean.

"Dean!"

His brother's bellowing seemed to momentarily pull him back to reality and Dean looked at Sam.

"What's going on?"

"Amy's in trouble."

"What do you mean- H-how do you know that? Did she call you?"

Sam's inquiry reminded him of the wonderful age he lived in, where everyone had a phone.

Snatching the small device from the pocket of his coat he quickly dialled Amy's number.

_"We're sorry, the number you are trying to-"_

"Fuck!" Dean cursed closing the lid on the cell phone. "Her cell's off. Damn it, Amy!" He resumed trudging anxiously about.

"Dean, calm down and just tell me what happened."

"I don't know! I just know that she's in trouble. Where the fuck did she go? Fuck! When I find her I'm going to kill her myself. What the hell was she thinking coming out here alone?" He yelled; the toxic mix of anger and terror overwhelming his senses. "AMY!"

Having had enough of being left in the dark, Sam had no choice but to grip Dean's arm and hank him to a screeching halt.

"How can you be so sure she'd in trouble?" Sam demanded.

Dean stared at him brother uttering simply:

"Because I can feel her. And she's terrified right now."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Dean cringed at the dumbfounded expression on his brother's face.

"What do you mean you can _feel_ her?"

He let out a frustrated sigh. They didn't have time for this.

"I can feel what she's feeling."

Sam's mind didn't seem to be able to wrap itself around this new bit of information.

"What? H-how…? How do you know it's what she's feeling?"

"Cause it's happened before, ok?" He was getting increasingly agitated with this waste of valuable time.

"When?"

"Look, dude, can we do 20 questions later? Trust me. I know she's in danger and we need to find her. Now!"

With that he resumed his anxious stomping and Sam followed closely.

"Where the hell did she-"

Dean stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the large sign in front of a small building. It read "Milton's funerary home".

Of course!

Dean growled as he angrily trudging up to the entrance:

"That pigheaded, stubborn… God, I swear, Sammy, one day I'm gonna end up shooting that woman!"

Flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other the two brothers inspected the door and windows for a way in. Sam watched as, without giving it a second thought, Dean slipped off his jacket and wrapping it around his hand pushed through the glass of the door, shattering it. This was a sloppy way to break into a place. Usually they'd go about it with a smoother, less conspicuous tactic, but there was no time to pick the lock. Reaching inside, it wasn't long before he'd unlocked the door and it screech loudly as it slid open.

They stepped inside the seemingly empty room. In the dark hues they could barely make out the front desk, the only brightness was the one coming from the street lighting.

Using his hands, Dean signalled the door in the back. They easily stepped into stride, moving cautiously and with precision.

The two froze, eyes wide, heart racing when a high-pitched shriek echoed into the blackened room. It came from down the hall. Something was closing in on them.

What the hell kind of creature could make a sound like that? It was nothing they'd ever heard. Backing up against one of the walls, they crawled along its width towards the entrance that gave way to a long corridor.

Reaching the threshold, they waited for it to appear. What they saw next made their blood curdle.

Just a few inches from them, hovering in mid air was a severed head. No body, just a severed head. As it turned to face them, they recognized the features of the man they'd met just that afternoon – the town doctor.

"What the fu-?"

Dean's curse was cut short by another ear piercing howl coming from the floating head, its mouth opening wide to expose a striking row of jagged, razor-sharp teeth.

"Shit!" It was Sam's turn to swear.

He didn't remember the good doctor having fangs.

The two men stared with large eyes as the creature soared in front of them for a moment and then, suddenly, lunged at Sam. Before it could reach him though, a gun pressed firmly against its pale temple and Dean's finger pulled the trigger. The powerful blast caused the head to ricochet off a cabinet before falling lifeless to the floor.

"What the fuck was that?!" Dean gasped as he allowed his tightened muscles to loosen up.

Sam, however seemed, to tense up further as he whisper.

"Run."

"What?" Dean frowned puzzled.

"I said RUN!" Sam bellowed roughly shoving his brother in the direction of the hall.

Confused Dean did as his brother told him. Just before passing the threshold, though, he glanced back. His pupils grew large when he saw the head begin to stir.

It wasn't dead!

He could hear his brother's loud footsteps rapidly clomping right behind him. All of a sudden he was yanked sideways by the collar of his shirt.

A door slammed shut and he realised Sam had just hoisted him into another room.

"What is-"

"It's a Nukekubi." Sam interrupted in a low voice

"A what!?"

"Nukekubi, a Japanese mythical creature."

"A Japan- What the hell is it doing here then?" Dean questioned.

"I don't know. I've never heard of any being spotted in America. I once read about a Rokuro-Kubi in California, but that was like…" Sam searched his muddled mind. "…a hundred years ago, back when they were still building the railroads out west, and were's still not sure it was really-"

A practical Dean cutt him off:

"That's just fascinating, Sam! Really, it is! Now how do we kill it? Cause apparently, bullets?" He waved his gun. "Not doing the trick."

"You can't."

"What?! Everything can be killed, Sammy. What about Ruby's dagger?"

Sam winced apologetically at the question.

"In my backpack." He paused before adding meekly: "At the bar."

Dean threw his hands in the air.

"Great! Perfect!"

Sam quickly pointed out:

"E-even if we had the dagger, I'm not sure it would work."

"Why not? It works on every other thing we've hunted." Dean pointed out.

"Look, the Nukekubi is an ancient creature. The lore on these things is sketchy at best, but from what I remember the only way to kill one is to destroy the body. The head is completely indestructible." Sam informed.

"Where's the body?"

The taller man shrugged.

"Come on, Sammy, think. How do these things-"

Another loud shriek came from the hall.

"Man, that is annoying!"

"It's supposed to be scary. That's how it tracks you. Nukekubi are basically blind and deaf during a hunt, they guide themselves by their victim's panic."

That wasn't good. He and Sam had been raised as hunters. Sure, some of the things they came up against were frightening, but they'd learn how to control their fear, even use it to their advantage, Amy on the other hand… If she was in the building, this creature would definitely pick up on her terror.

"So basically we gotta find the body, right?"

Sam nodded.

"So…" Dean coaxed him.

He could almost hear the cogs in Sam's brain turning as he narrowed his eyes, deep in thought.

"Ok, ok… Let's see, um… They only feed during night time and in order to do so they detach their head from their body-"

"Which is disgusting, by the way." Dean just had to put in his wiseass two cents on that one.

Sam ignored him:

"…the head just basically flies about in search of human prey. Their bodies are just left behind and its their only vulnerability. So… The body's probably back at the doctor's house." Sam rationalized.

Attaboy, Sammy! It did pay off having a bookworm for a brother.

Armed with the intel he needed Dean quickly devised a simple plan:

"You go check the doc's place, I'll try to find Amy."

His hand was on the knob as he spoke:

"On the count of three."

Sam nodded.

"One… two… three."

The door creeked open. The hall seemed to be clear and the two slipped out of the room. Resorting to hand gestures, they said their goodbyes and parted in oposite directions.

She jolted at the sound of gunfire. Someone else was here. Dean? Sam, maybe?

_'Oh, please let that be the boys.'_ She prayed in her mind.

A part of her itched to leave her hidding place and check, but the rational side of her, which coincidentaly was also the scared shitless one, decided it was best to just sit still. Even if it wasn't the guys all she needed was to wait for sunrise.

_'Don't be scared! There's nothing to be scared of. So there is a bloodsucking floating head out to kill you, but other than that, you're fine! What's the big wop? You've already got psycho-queen-demon on your tail, why not add a Nukekubi to the party. See, you're even making smartass comments. You're not scared. You're fine. Think happy thoughts. Happy, happy thoughts.'_

Great, now she sounded like one of Peter Pan's lost boys.

A second shriek coming from upstairs caused her to jump again.

"Screw the happy thoughts!"

She needed to get out of there.

Bracing hersef, she gathered all of her courage and pushed the closet door open.

Popping her head out, she saw a sharp light moving, hovering between the multitude of coffins in the display room. She held her breath and anxiously waited for the figure holding the flashlight to be revealed.

Dean stepped into the next room. He let the light glide over the many wooden boxes and realised they were coffins. Thankfully, they seemed to be empty, at least the ones with the lid open.

Guardedly, he made his way around them.

Amy's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, as if she were a fish out of water, in a meek attempt to warn him, but the fear held a steely grip on her throat, and she felt like her windpipe was being crushed.

"Dean." When the sound finally came out it was completely eclipsed by yet another excruciating wail.

He whirled around to find the gruesome head fly across the room at a blinding speed. Its target, however, wasn't Dean, but something right behind him.

Before he could turn around, he was once again hauled back by his shirt. And like a déjà vu of what had just happened a few scarce minutes before, he heard a door crash just as his back hit a wall. Instead of Sam, though, he was faced with a wide-eyed Amy, and instead of a room, they were in a cramped closet. A _very_ cramped closet!

"Amy!" Relief washed over him like a bucket of icy water on a blistering Summer day.

There was a loud thump on the door and the two jumped. Evidently the Nukekubi was trying to headbutt its way inside the closet. By the way the structure was shaking it was clear it wouldn't take long before it actually achieved its goal.

"Are you alright?" Dean questioned, his hands holding her by her arms and she could feel the flashlight and the barrel of the gun pressing on either side.

"There's a supernatural severed head trying to suck the life out of me. Oh, yeah, I'm just peachy!" She hissed up at him. "No, I'm not alright. I'm terrified."

"Listen to me. You have to calm down." He commanded gravely staring down at her.

Man, this closet was tiny. Their bodies were practically glued to one another.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?"

The pounded beat coming from the other side of the wooden structure increased.

"Try harder. This thing is guided by your fear." Dean explained.

PANG!

"I know that!" She snapped as the thumping unnerved her.

"How do-"

"It's a Nukekubi."

Dean furrowed his brow.

How come Sam and Amy knew all of this stuff and he didn't? He really needed to start catching up on his knowledge on the occult.

"And what do you mean my fear? Who says it's picking up on me? Maybe it's sniffing you." Amy countered with a bruised ego.

The way she was pressing against him, he was pretty sure that if the creature was picking up on something coming from him it was definitely not fear. But he couldn't tell her that, so he didn't argue.

PANG! PANG!

"Just think of something else."

"Where's Sam?" She asked.

Of course she would want to know where he was. Dean swallowed hard, pushing down the disturbing feeling her question evoked in him.

PANG! PANG!

"He went after the body."

"Thank God."

Something creaked and the two froze when Dean pointed the flashlight in the direction of the door and saw a small gash begin to form on the wood. One more minute of pounding and it would break through.

"Shit." Amy cursed. "What now?"

Dean raised his hand, pointed the gun at the door and blindly pulled the trigger.

A dull thud came from outside. Dean and Amy didn't waste any time and opened the damaged door. He waved the flashlight around until he found the Nukekubi. He was stunned to see the gap in the centre of its forehead rapidly healing while the head began to stir.

Damn, this thing just wasn't going to let up. There was no way they would be able to get out of there in time and both of them knew it. They needed to find a safe place and wait until Sam destroyed the body.

With time running out Dean's eyes fell on one of the empty coffins. It differed from the others thought. Instead of wood, it was made of metal. It would have to do.

Clutching Amy's arm he practically dragged her yelling as they reached the coffin:

"Get inside."

"What?" She gapped at him. "You must be joking. I'm not getting-"

She was unable to finish her sentence, letting out a yelp when she abruptly found herself laying flat on her back, inside a closed coffin, every inch of her covered by a breathless Dean.

_'Shit!'_ She swore.

Well, at least now she didn't have to worry about the Nukekubi sniffing her fear.

**Author's note:**

The Nukekubi actually exist, at least in Japonese folklore. I did however make up a few things, namely the fact that it guided itself through the fear it caused in its victims. If you want to read more, you should check out Wikipedia.

For all of you still sticking to this story after 20 chapters, thanks and I hope you're liking it. ;)


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"Please tell be you didn't do what I think you just did." Amy's voice was low and he could feel the aggravation scarcely contained as she glared up at him, her face barely an inch from his.

"What?!" He feigned ignorance.

"You just shoved us into a coffin, Winchester!"

The sound of her calling him by his last name sent a chill down to his stomach; a very decadent and wrong chill, which he wasn't supposed to feel.

"Well, what was I supposed to do? Just wait until it got to us?"

"Will you get that thing out of my face?" She scowled trying to push the flashlight away from her.

It was near impossible with the restricted amount of space they had.

She lay on her back, their legs awkwardly mangled in a way that his left thigh was currently strategically placed between hers, her arms crushed along her torso, while he propped himself up by his elbows, one on either side of her. This meant that her head was currently lodged between a bright flashlight and a gun.

He tried to keep himself as far away from her as possible, keeping the maximum distance so that their bodies didn't touch. Though he was relatively successful when it came to their chests, their legs and pelvises were a completely different story.

_'Oh, God, please don't move.'_ He begged her mentally.

Her angered mind however seemed to be blocking his telekinetic request as she shifted irritably.

"Stop that!" He growled.

She ignored him.

"And what the hell were you thinking shooting a Nukekubi? All you did was piss him off!" Amy hissed.

"Oh, ok! Next time I'll just let him chow down on you, deal?"

"You can't kill a Nukekubi head, you twit!"

"I _know_! I'm not an idiot!" He barked back offended.

"Could've fooled me." She grumbled and Dean's eyes widened at her.

"Look, if it wasn't for you we wouldn't be in this mess." He accused.

"Excuse me? Whose brilliant idea was it to come to this town in the first place?" She countered.

They were literally screaming in each other's faces now.

"Every thing was going fine until you decided to go out for a stroll on your own."

"So what? Wasn't it safe? I thought you were _so_ sure it was vampires." She ridiculed. "By the way, what was the plan on that one? Bore them to death with colossal dosages of corny flirting?"

Wait a second? Was she jealous? His heart gave an extra beat at the thought.

"You jealous?" He cocked a smart-alecky eyebrow at her.

If the question had caught her by surprise she didn't show it; her reply was immediate and soaked in sarcasm:

"Um… Let me see… um... no! I think nauseated would be the appropriate adjective on that one." Satisfied that she'd managed to erase that idea from his mind she quickly changed the subject: "I told you it wasn't vampires."

"Shut up."

He sounded like a five year old.

"You shut up!"

So did she.

"Amy, I swear if you don't shut that pie-hole of yours right now, I'll shut it for you."

"You can try!" Her chin rose high as she dared him.

Her breath hitched when she caught his eyes dropping to her mouth and linger there.

Thankfully, a distant shriek broke the growingly uncomfortable moment.

"It sounds like it's moving away." Amy was the first to speak.

Dean shushed her and she scowled up at him, while he blindly looked up as if he were able to see through the lid of the coffin.

"Don't shush-"

His hand dropped the gun and covered her lips.

There was another howl and this one was definitely more muffled and remote.

Yeah, it seemed to be moving away. In their argument, both had forgotten the dangerous situation they were stuck in, the fear subsiding long enough to cause the Nukekubi to lose their trail.

"I think it's gone." He announced.

His gaze returned to her with a furrowed brow when he heard her stifled protest. His hand was still on her mouth. He'd forgotten about that.

Gradually an uneven smirk took over his smug lips.

"I warned you I would shut it for you."

She tried to bite at his fingers but his grip was too tight so, instead, she began furiously trashing under him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head at the overwhelming surge of lust her actions induced.

Automatically his hand was off her mouth.

"Don't _ever_ do that again!"

His mind scarcely registered her fervent protest, still reeling from the intense feeling rushing through his body.

He was no stranger to desire. His brother always told him he was a horny bastard and he was right. But this… this thing they had… this was a whole new level of craving. His hand fisted around the flashlight as he searched for much needed control.

Every single one of his senses was stuck and overpowered by her proximity; her face, her voice, her scent and God! could she just stop fidgeting for a second?

He had to get out of there before he lost his mind and did something he'd regret.

_'Or, not…'_ The mischievous part of his brain whispered to him.

Another wail and this one was barely audible.

"It's gone. Let's go." He breathed.

He was pathetic, he couldn't even talk straight.

Amy nodded eagerly.

'_Yes, please.'_

Distance, she needed distance from him, because right now her body was asking her to do things that…

_'Better not think about that.'_

She braced herself as he moved. Unknowingly, in his haste, he nudged his knee against the spot where her legs came together and her body went haywire.

"O-oh…"

Her foggy mind picked up on that with a three second delay.

"O-oh? What do you mean o-oh?!"

She didn't like the expression on his face when he looked down at her.

"What?!" She demanded.

"There's no handle." He informed.

"Huh?"

"I can't get it open from the inside. We're locked in."

"Why is there no handle?"

She realised the stupidity of her inquiry the moment she said it, but she still had to hear Dean's cocky reply:

"Well, maybe because dead people don't usually need them, since they're… you know… Dead!"

He met her glare with one of his own.

"What now, Einstein?"

He didn't have an answer.

"Gah…" He gasped when she began to squirm again.

Her hips bucked upwards, teasingly pushing against his, to enable her to slip her hand under herself and into the back pocket of her jeans.

"What are-"

"I'm trying to reach for my phone…" She was huffing with the effort and her breath was hot on his neck.

Add to that the way their pelvises were rubbing together and he had a growing problem on his hands. Well, not on his hands but…

"I'll do it."

"Huh? You're not touching my-"

"I was talking about getting my phone. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Great! Now she was pouting! She had to know what that did to him. She was doing it on purpose.

At least he'd made her stop, which was a plus. After a few moments he managed to fish out his phone.

His head dropped when the screen lit up.

"No signal." He sighed frustrated.

Before she had a chance to move again though, he made sure to push himself up as far as possible, to avoid any contact between the lower halves of their bodies. This, however, meant that the upper parts would have to come closer and he found his face buried in the crook of her neck.

She kept her eyes glued to the lid of the coffin, desperately trying to dismiss the balmy pants that taunted her neck.

When she eventually had the small device in her hand she dropped her hips and he rose above her.

Their eyes connected for a fraction of a second under the bright beam of the flashlight before hastily averting each other.

"Damn!" She cursed.

"No signal, either?"

She shook her head.

"What now?" She questioned.

"We wait. Sam will come for us."

"When?"

"I don't know! I'm not the one with special powers, remember? Sam's the psychic one." The effort to control his craving for her was taking its toll on him.

And being reminded of Sam didn't help either.

"It might take ages. Does he even know we're here?"

"He knows."

She was moving again.

"Um…What are you doing?" He tried to remain calm but jerked back when her hand slipped between their bodies and down her stomach to- He gripped her wrist halting it just in the nick of time.

"I'm getting a cramp!" She whined.

A powerful spasm took over her inner thigh muscles and she cringed, kicking her left leg.

Man, it was painful!

"Let go of my hand!" She commanded.

"N-no."

He was stuttering, great!

"Why not?!" She frowned up at him.

He had the goofiest expression ever, an odd mix between fear, embarrassment and-

She gulped when she recognised the last emotion. It was one she was becoming increasingly familiar with herself – lust, barely contained lust.

"It really hurts." She whimpered.

Reluctantly, he let got and her hand continued its path between her thighs, while he propped his pelvis as upwards as he could.

It as all going fine, the muscles in her thigh were relaxing steadily, until the back of her arm brushed against him. There was no way of ignoring the contact and the source of the hardness pushing against her skin through rough denim was obvious to both of them. There was no denying it.

It only got worse when their dilated pupils met.

Caving under her stunned gawk he grumbled dismissively:

"What did you expect? I'm a guy!"

His reaction served to lighten the mood and she seized the opportunity to retract her hand and disdainfully reply:

"Evidently…"

She avoided meeting his gaze, but having his face right on top of hers made it impossible.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. I haven't had sex in months. I'm in a cramped space, lying on top of a woman who just won't quit squirming. It's bound to happen." He excused himself.

"I didn't say anything." She defended herself.

"Yeah, but you were thinking it."

"I thought you weren't a psychic." She scoffed derisively.

"There are certain things in life you don't need to be a psychic to figure out." He snarled.

"Fine."

"Fine." He repeated.

An uncomfortable silence filtered between them and as the anxiety got the best of her she twisted a bit.

"You can't keep still, can you?"

"My back hurts." She protested.

"And how do you think mine's doing? I've been holding myself up for the last half hour." He countered.

She narrowed her eyes at him crossly and pursed her lips together.

Once again the stillness settled in the coffin. Their combined breaths felt loud and embarrassingly uneven.

She was about to shift positions again but he anticipated her move and his hand grasped her hipbone, pinning her pelvis to the ground.

"Stop. Moving." He bit out the words.

"Or what?!" She defied him.

"Or I can't be held responsible for my actions." He couldn't have been more honest and it set her pulse into a frantic rhythm.

**Author's note:**

Sorry to cut this scene at this point, but it's probably going to be a rather long one so I had to cut it into 2 chapters. ;)

I know, evil cliffy.

**Lere**, great to see you here. And yes, I just couldn't resist taking a stab at writing Dean, he's just a perfect character for UST and I love writing a smart-Alec. Another reason that drove me to want to write a Supernatural Fic was the looming threat that Kripke might pull a season 6 Buffy on us with the next season and turn Dean into a moaning, brooding, _'oh my God I went to hell now I'm a completely screwed up and depressing' _character. I really hope he doesn't go down that path…. Please!


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's note:**

Hey, guys. Fresh new chapter here. Sorry it took so long. Real life… got in the way.

Anyway, please join me in welcoming my brand new beta, Vanilla sunset in the Sky. Thanks, hon. ;)

And with no further ado I give you:

**Chapter 22**

Pushing the door Sam crept inside the bedroom, it was his last hope. Sure enough there it was, in all its horrific glory. He recoiled slightly at the gruesome sight. Sure he was used to sickening spectacles like these, but the image of a headless body standing in the middle of a darkened room still managed to irk him.

He warily slithered closer, dagger gripped tightly in his hand, a part of him expecting the lifeless corpse to move, even though he knew better. A Nukekubi's body is completely unresponsive, unaware, still… Better safe than sorry.

He jerked back when a howl coming from down the hall reached him.

It was in the house. He needed to move fast.

The head sped into the room just as he plunged the blade into the creature's chest.

She couldn't let his words linger in the claustrophobic space any longer so she hastily replied:

"Can't be held responsible for your actions? Does this mean I get to feel flattered now?" She twisted her lips for a cynical smirk reminding him of his earlier statement.

He responded in kind:

"No, sweetheart. You're totally safe, 'cause nothing's gonna to happen here."

_'Liar._' A part of his brain teased him.

"I don't break the code." The remark was directed more at himself rather than the woman crushed under his weight.

She was Sam's girl; she was off limits.

"Code?" Amy frowned.

"I have my standards, you know." He declared.

He'd never been one to actually care about the guy code. Honour amongst guys? Not really his thing. Especially when it came to women… it was every man for himself, but this was Sam. No matter how hard… And it was pretty hard…

_'Literally'._

Could his brain just shut up already?

_'Yeah, it's hard, but I'm not gonna do that to Sammy.'_

He simply and desperately needed to convince himself of that fact.

Completely out of sink with the true meaning of his words, Amy's heart sank, her throat knotted painfully, but she was still able to promptly push her quip out:

"Right… standards. Fresh out of the cradle or straight out of the trailer park. Classy!" She mockingly widened her eyes at him before slitting them dangerously to add: "Now please let go of me."

She emphasized her point by gruffly jerking her hips. Her actions caused her thigh to rub up against his crotch and an unsolicited wave of pleasure gripped him. His lids shut tightly, his teeth gritted and his jaw muscles twitched irrationally as he tried to find his bearings.

_'Sam's, Sam's… off limits!'_

After what seemed like an eternity he opened his eyes again to find her green irises entirely flooded by the darkness of her dilated pupils.

"Sorry…" Her voice was hoarse.

So was his.

"You did that on purpose."

She shook her head vehemently and they stared at each other for a long time. When his attention started drifting towards her mouth she broke eye contact and he hastily mimicked her.

Their gazes urgently tried to focus on something other than the person they were stuck with, but it wasn't viable. The coffin was just too small.

The silence was daunting; their combined ragged pants taunted them, exposing the palpable tension in the closed quarters.

"This is all your fault." She finally piped up.

"You're not gonna start that again, are you?"

"Well, it's true!" She pushed the subject just so that they didn't have to lay there in the suffocating stillness.

She didn't care. She'd rather they be screaming their heads off, that way she could get her mind to focus on something other than the way he felt on top of her, the way he smelled… Man, he smelled great!

_'No he doesn't!'_ She mentally slapped herself.

"Next time, I'm tying you to the motel bed so there's no chance you can wander off and get yourself killed."

"I was doing fine until you showed up."

"Oh, yeah, right. Hiding in the closet, 'cause that works every time." He sneered.

"No one asked you to come after me."

By the way, how had he known she was in trouble?

This was the second time he'd waltzed in to save her ass.

"I'll make a mental note not to make that mistake again."

"Fine."

"Fine." He teethed out.

"I don't need your help anyway."

"Clearly!" His voice dripped with sarcasm and he added an eyebrow lift for good measure.

"I don't! I never did."

"Of course. You never need anyone's help."

"You bet I don't. I've always managed to get by on my own."

"As a civilian, sure. But we're talking about creatures that-"

"Stop it! Stop talking to me like I'm a stupid, inexperienced little girl who doesn't know what's out there. I've seen what these things can do, I've-"

"You've seen the end result, but you've never faced any of them. You couldn't even tell Junior was possessed!" The irritation gradually morphed into anger at her stubbornness.

"Neither could you!" She pointed out.

"I would have if I'd been there long enough." He snapped.

"Sure you would." She scoffed.

When she looked away his hand seized her chin and forced to meet his angered stare. The intensity she found there frightened her and excited her at the same time.

She'd never seen such passion in a person.

She'd met all kinds of people in her life. For some reason, she'd always felt like she'd failed to completely connect with any of them. None could ever match the ferocity of her own emotions and it had always made her feel like an outsider. They all seemed so well adjusted, meek…. Compliant. Michael was the perfect example of it. She'd loved him, probably… but there were days she wanted to hit him over the head for being so goddamn placid and mild-mannered. Those days her fierce nature made her feel like a freak.

So she'd learned to push back, control those feelings, dull them down and ultimately numb herself in order to fit in. Like most of the goals she'd set for herself she'd achieved this too and for a while she'd been content. Content was the fitting word for it, happy wasn't. But it worked… most of the time. At least she wasn't unhappy. That's what she told herself. She had a good life and most of all – she was in control of things.

That was until the man currently burning a whole into her with his stare was dragged bleeding and half dead into her home.

There was nothing placid or mild-mannered about Dean.

"Now you listen to me!" He growled and tightened his hold on her when she tried to free herself. "If _ever_ pull a stunt like this ever again, I'm going to-"

"What?!" She challenged fiercely.

God, she was beautiful!

"Lock me in the trunk of your car again?"

"If necessary!"

She glared daggers at him and it felt like a punch to his gut. Barely managing the chaotic sensation he bit out:

"From now on, you are going to do what Sam and I tell you to do. If we say stay put, you'll stay put."

"What am I a dog?!" She was outraged.

Who the hell did he think he was?

"You can't boss me around."

"Believe me, I can and I will."

That did it! Without warning she violently jerked her chin out of his grasp. When he made an attempt to grab hold of her again she began thrashing under him, pushing and rearing.

"Stop it!"

Hands and arms clumped loudly in the confines of the small space.

"Let me go, you jerk!"

Legs kicked and shoved down.

"Amy, quit it!"

Hers hips bucked and his pressed down.

"No!"

"Amy!"

He was able to pin her hands on either side of her head and it only served to make her madder.

"Let go!"

"AMY!"

She wasn't sure if it was the sheer volume or the desperation in his voice that did it but she froze and locked in on his face.

Both drew harsh, ragged gulps of air into their chests.

Wide eyed and panting she made one last effort at freedom, jolting her body. His response turned the butterflies in her stomach into a full-blown spasm fest and her nails dug into the back of his hand as his mouth greedily covered hers.

'_What the hell? Stop this!'_ His mind screamed at him but his body was on auto-pilot.

He could feel every inch of her go rigid as his lips assaulted hers.

_'God, Sam's gonna kill me. Hell, she's gonna kill-'_

Everything went blank in his muddled brain when he felt her respond and when he gasped her tongue was in his mouth.

_'Jesus Christ!'_

After that, all thought process was lost for both of them as they wrestled for control with teeth, nails and hips.

Amy was every bit as mind numbing and gut wrenching as he'd pictured it not an hour before, in the back alley with Marilyn.

Even as they kissed she still wouldn't let him prevail. In his shock she'd successfully eluded his clutches and the nails that had been bruising his hands were currently leaving angry red trails on his neck and collarbone, hauling at his shirt, tearing at it, pulling him into her. Her right thigh hiked around his waist and drew him in and she moaned into his mouth, giving him a chance to push his tongue inside.

One arm around her waist strained her to arch her back. His free hand hooked under her ear and dove into her tousled hair to hold her in place so he could continue his attack.

'_Oh, God!_'

She was loosing it… the control she depended on for so long. She needed to stop this, so why was her body insisting on doing the exact opposite?

Her ears swarmed with the sounds of ravenous gasps and guttural mewls. She couldn't tell precisely where they came from, but she could feel the rumbling his chest so she was pretty sure she wasn't the only source of the frenzied noises.

He bit and sucked at her lips just as frantically as she did.

_'Stop it!'_

His mind was kidding, right? He was supposed to stop this? How!?

It was like trying to stop a car from crashing to the ground after it had already dived off a cliff.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started it ended. Her hands were pushing him up against the lid of the coffin and he was once gawking down at her. She was flushed and her swollen-lips managed to breathe out between gasps:

"Sam…"

As an unexpected sting squeezed the air from his windpipe he was vaguely aware of a cool breeze rushing down his back. He followed her eyes and looked over his shoulder to find Sam staring down at them.

"Are you guys alright?" Before he could finish his sentence Amy had somehow wriggled herself from under Dean and was out of the coffin, her arms tightly wrapped around the younger Winchester's neck.

"Sam…"

For Amy it was like she was trying to cling to her last thread of sanity.

For Dean it was like someone was twisting his insides and he swallowed hard to keep the bile from surging to his mouth.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Straining on the tip of her toes, Amy practically dangled off of Sam's neck while his hands awkwardly hovered around her tiny form for a couple of surprised seconds before settling on the small of her back to return the hug.

"A-are you ok?" He questioned and felt her nod into the crook of his neck.

After a moment she finally let go of him.

"Did you get it?" She asked.

"Yeah. It's done." His attention drifted from Amy to Dean and watched him jump out of the coffin. "How'd you two end up in there?"

Amy glanced at Dean, but he refused to meet either hers or Sam's gaze. He simply gave his brother a dismissive: "Long story." And walked out of the room.

The two followed and soon were trudging down Main Street.

The relatively short distance to the bar felt considerably and glaringly longer to all three as they made it in complete silence. The strain between Amy and Dean was obvious and palpable to Sam, but he decided, once again, to just let it go. Whatever they had going on, he was sure he didn't want any part of it.

With her hands firmly buried in the front pockets of her jeans Amy occupied her beleaguered mind by eyeing every single window of every building she walked by. How was it that even with the loud pang of two bullets being fired no one had come out to check?

It was odd.

"Where'd you leave the body?" Dean questioned finally breaking the stillness.

Partially relieved by this Sam eagerly informed:

"There's no body. Nukekubis turn into a nasty pulp when they die."

That was convenient! After tonight's events, Dean really didn't feel like spending the rest of the evening in the middle of nowhere digging up a grave. Getting amnesia-inducing amounts of alcohol into his wired system was definitely higher on his to do list.

"Good." He grumbled.

"Hey, you ok, dude?" Sam inquired, noticing that his brother was clearly avoiding eye contact.

"Fine. Just need to get a few hours of sleep before we hightail out of here."

Good plan. Maybe the townspeople had failed to be alarmed by the gunfire in the middle of the night but there would definitely be probing questions in the morning once the word got out that the good doctor was missing and someone had broken into the funerary home. Being the newcomers in town they would probably be the favourite target of their scrutiny.

With ground-eating steps, that made it difficult for Amy to keep up, Dean reached the bar. Walking past the front door, they found that it was packed; in all probability half of the town was in there.

Amy squirmed a bit when the overall chatter died down just as they entered the smoke filled space.

"What?" Dean defiantly jerked his chin up and the clatter resumed.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning." Sam bid his goodbyes and was about to walk around the bar towards his room, in the back, when he noticed Dean's failure to go up the stairs.

Instead, he made a straight line for the bartender and ordered a shot of whiskey.

"What are you doing?"

Sam threw a quick, polite smile at Mr. Landon while the old man handed Dean his order.

The glass didn't even touch the wooden surface of the counter as Dean quickly brought it to his lips and gulped its contents down.

"Another." His voice was strained by the sting of alcohol.

"Dean?"

"I'm just having a couple of drinks." Dean said with his eyes on the second shot.

And down it went.

"There, you've had two, now go to bed."

Dean ignored him.

"I'll have another."

Mr. Landon threw him a disapproving sideways glance but did as he was asked and when he came back Dean changed his previous order:

"On second thought, leave the bottle."

"Look, kid, maybe you-"

"I said, leave the bottle." Dean interrupted gruffly.

Mr. Landon directed his attention at Amy who, up until now, had been silently watching the exchange between the two Winchesters.

Catching the look, Dean quipped:

"Don't worry about my old lady." His hand unexpectedly wrapped around her waist and hauled her up against his chest.

Even though the butterflies in her stomach went haywire she managed a forged wrinkling of her nose, signalling her distaste for the alcoholic whiff coming from his mouth.

"She understands a man has needs. Right, baby-carrot?"

The caustic double-meaning of his words didn't go by unnoticed prompting Amy to retort with tart sweetness:

"Right, freckle-face."

He narrowed his eyes at her, releasing her from his grip.

"Dean…" Sam eyed the bartender who was still standing in front of them and putting on a plastic smile continued: "We have to get up real early tomorrow. Maybe you should just go to bed."

"You think?" There was sarcasm in his tone, but Sam nodded anyway. "I don't." Turning to face Mr. Landon he pointed at the bottle. "Leave it."

Reluctantly, the old man did as he was told and walked away.

"Dean, tomorrow morning these people are going to start asking questions and when they do we better be half way across the border."

In the short time it took for Sam to say these words Dean had already slammed back three more shots.

That made how many in total? Four? Five? Dean had already lost count. This was a good sign. The lightness-headedness coupled with the growing weight in his legs was also a good omen.

"Dean!"

Two more shots closely followed by a third and the bottle was already half empty.

"Just leave him." Amy intervened, getting growingly more infuriated by the spectacle. "If he wants to get plastered that's his problem."

Even though his vision was becoming increasingly fuzzy, his mouth was just as trigger-happy as ever. He was about to sneer something back at Amy, when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. One minute he is turning around, the next he's laying flat on his back staring up at a mascara-wearing dude who was definitely having the worst hair day ever.

One… two… three seconds ticked by and eventually Dean's whiskey soaked brain registered that random mullet-boy had just clocked him.

At the taste of his own blood, he brought his hand to his mouth to find that, indeed, he was bleeding.

"What the fuck?!" He swore staggering to his feet; his coordination skills clearly beginning to be affected by the amount of alcohol in his system.

Partially shit-faced in under five minutes. That was a new record for Dean.

"You stay away from Marilyn!"

The hunter heard him shout. Man, he was loud!

Sam scanned the room.

All three might have been oblivious to the identity of his attacker, but Sam and Amy easily recognised the two men marching towards them as the members of the would-be vampire gang they'd seen earlier that night.

Great, just what they needed to top their evening – a bar fight. Way to keep under the radar!

"Who the hell do you think you are screwing other people's girlfriend?"

Amy felt a pang in her chest, closely followed by a disgusted spasm of her gut at the realisation of what exactly had caused this harassment.

"Huh?" Dean mumbled drowsily trying to get up.

Before he was able to stand, though, the guy took another swing at him and down Dean went.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Sam stiffened and his fists balled at his sides as he prepared for the upcoming confrontation.

Two against three. Didn't seem like much of a fight.

Two more black-clad boys entered the bar and Sam couldn't help rolling his eyes.

They were screwed.

In the meantime, an inebriated Dean had managed to stagger to his feet and was currently trying to give the scorned boyfriend a steely death-stare, but his inability to focus his eyes was kind of botching his attempt to look threatening. The wobbling wasn't helping either.

"Look, man, I don't want-"

Goth-boy's punch died in Dean's hand. He might have been having trouble standing, but he was still a lot faster than any twenty-year old brat. He had enough bar fights under his belt to earn him the required skills.

The two men glared at each other for a few moments, Sam, Amy and the other four boys waiting restlessly.

And then scorn-boyfriend made the moronic move of trying to hit Dean with his free hand and all hell broke loose.

Fist flew, three of them ganged up on Dean while Sam busied himself with the other two.

Amy had never been one to just idly stand by and so off she went, jumping onto the back of the nearest assailant, who just happened to be Marilyn's boy toy. The man howled when her nails dung into his neck. With one violently jerk she was flying across the room. Dean froze for a second before balling his fist and it was lights out for Goth-boy.

He rushed towards her, rendering a couple more unconscious on his way over and leaving Sam to entertain the remaining two.

"Are you ok?"

She pushed his adding hand away, when he tried to help her and stood up on her own.

"I'm fine." She grumbled, dusting herself off. "Go, help Sam!"

Right, Sam!

Just as Dean whirled around shot's rang out and everything stopped.

All eyes turned to see Mr. Landon with a smoking shotgun in hand.

"That's enough!" He yelled.

One of the Goth kids made a move towards Sam and yet another loud bang echoed in the bar.

"I said ENOUGH!"

Black eyed and battered the boys wobbled onto their feet and a series of glare exchanges ensued.

Mr. Landon let off another unnecessary warning shot just for good measure.

"Get out!" He commanded.

After a nerve-racking beat, the bloodied gang lurched out of the establishment. Almost as quickly as it had started it was over and Amy couldn't help frowning at just how quickly the usual chatter resumed; like nothing had happened.

Ok! Apparently, guns going off in the middle of the night was just common around these parts. That would explain the absence of a sheriff waiting for them at the funerary home.

Dean ineptly slogged his way towards Sam.

"Thanks, man."

Sam gruffly shrugged off his brother's hand on his shoulder and Dean was taken aback by it.

"Whatever, dude. Just go to sleep already."

With that he shuffled his way around the bar, disappearing behind it.

The sting in Dean's chest doubled the moment Amy rushed after him and he was left only with a disapproving head shake from Mr. Landon.

"Here… Let me take a look at that." Her voice was soft and she had a small smile on her lips as she entered the miniscule room.

Sitting on the mattress next to Sam, she placed the gauze and betadine solution on the bedside table and proceeded to inspect the cut just above his left eyebrow.

"Good news is it's not going to need stitches." She announced after a moment and began tending to the wound.

He winced as the disinfectant came into contact with his bruised skin.

"Yeah, that's the bad news."

Sam smirked at that.

They remained silent for a couple of minutes until he spoke:

"So… can I ask what's going on between you and Dean?"

She had to make a note to keep her breathing even and her tone steady when she replied:

"What do you mean?"

"You two… ouch!"

"Sorry!"

Sam gave her a nod and resumed:

"You two were always like cats and dogs when we were kids…"

"And…" She really didn't want to have this conversation.

"I didn't think it could get any worse. But lowe and behold, it did."

"It's not worse." Amy denied, focussing on his injuries.

"Come on, Amy. Can't you guys just try to get along?" He half-whined, clearly exhausted from being exposed to their constant bickering.

"Shouldn't you be giving this little speech to your big brother?" Amy scoffed.

"I would if I thought it would work. He's really pigheaded."

"Tell me about it!" She sighed.

"And so are you."

"Am not!"

Sam cocked his unharmed eyebrow at her and she relented:

"Ok, maybe I'm a little stubborn… sometimes."

"Just sometimes." His chuckle earned him a light slap on the arm and he jolted a bit.

"Sorry!" She apologized once more.

"Just see if you can ignore him, or something."

She had finished tending to his wound and was now looking at him. She seemed to ponder his request before ultimately agreeing to it:

"I'll try."

"Thanks."

She stood up and tossed an icepack into his lap.

"Put that on your eye or you're in for a spiffy new shiner tomorrow."

He nodded.

"Night, Sammy."

"Night, Amy."

Taking a deep breath she braced herself for what was waiting for her upstairs. She just hoped that Dean had passed out by the time she got there.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Was it too much to ask?

She'd had a pretty crappy couple of days so far. Almost killed by a demon-possessed hunter, being forced to call her old flame and inevitably having to shuffle through a whole lot of emotional baggage in the process, getting _stuffed_ into the trunk of an Impala and then dragged to Hicksville USA, only to be chased down by a blood-parched floating head and eventually stuck in a coffin with the most aggravating man she'd ever met. And to top off her _delightful_ evening? What more could she ask for other than being flung across a room to land on her back, which was currently giving her hell. Karma _really_ owed her. She deserved to have a bone throw her way, didn't she?

She hesitantly pushed the door open. He wide awake, standing in the middle of the bedroom, barefoot and clad in only a ragged t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Nope, no bones being thrown her way tonight.

Taking in a deep breath she strode inside and immediately made a straight line for the bathroom, never meeting his gaze.

She was back earlier than expected. The way she'd run after Sam, he'd assumed she'd spend the night with him.

And no, there was no giddiness brewing him his chest at her being here! It was just indigestion. That's what it was.

Leaning on the sink she stared at her reflection. Dark hues circled her tired eyes, while a generous amount of reddish locks escaping her loose ponytail contrasted against her pasty complexion.

She was a mess.

Her fingers looped around the elastic band and pulled at it allowing her hair to cascade down her back. She ran her hands through her aching scalp, before dragging them over her face, pulling at the taunt skin and causing her eyes to sag droopily.

She tried to arch her back next, but winced at the sudden sharp pain that coursed through it.

Turning, she lifted her shirt and checked the large mirror, finding a fresh, nasty bruise on the small of her back – a souvenir from her crash landing into a table after being airborne for about three seconds.

A loud pounding closely followed by a harsh: "You done in there?" jolted her back to reality.

She let out a frustrated and exhausted huff before dropping the hem of her shirt and swinging the door open.

"What?" She demanded.

He halted for a second, seeing her with her hair down for the first time. It looked… nice. No, not nice! It looked… ok… maybe.

"Gotta pee."

Dean didn't even bother waiting for her to allow him passage and simply pushed his way past her.

"I was here first!" She protested.

"Did I say you had to leave?"

Amy's eyes widened as Dean bald-facedly reached for the opening of his pants. At the metallic sound of a zipper coming undone she practically squealed:

"What are you doing?!"

"Taking a leek." He reported nonchalantly, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

"But-"

When she realised he was actually going to do this with her standing there, she was left with no choice and quickly darted out of the bathroom, but not without making sure to express her disgust by slamming the door.

She sat on the bed and waited… and waited… and after ten minutes she banged on the door:

"Hey, Cinderella, you mind not hogging the bathroom?" She bellowed.

There was no reply so she tried again and once more was only greeted by silence.

"Winchester?!" She yelled.

Nothing.

She checked her watch to note that fifteen minutes had gone. Exasperation sluggishly morphed into worry. He'd gotten quite a beating earlier. That, coupled with his previous injuries and the stupid amount of alcohol he'd gobbled down in record time, was enough to make her wonder if something had happened.

"Winchester?" It was still loud, but now the chief emotion filtering through was concern.

She frantically tried to remember if she'd heard a thud earlier. Maybe he'd fainted, maybe…

"Dean Winchester, you open this goddamn door right now, you hear me?!"

More silence and desperation crept in.

"Dean!"

Her eyes grew large at an unrecognisable sound coming from the other side.

"Dean?"

There it was again. What was that?

She called his name one more time and rested her ear against the wooden structure.

The next sound was a familiar one. A toilet was flushed followed by the gurgling of water running.

When the door swung open she nearly toppled into the bathroom, barely able to find her footing before crashing into Dean's chest.

Gauchely she straightened herself and craned her neck up to meet his soaked face. The scent of menthol whiffed past her. He'd brushed his teeth.

"Did you just vomit?" She questioned.

"No."

The lie didn't stick.

Well, well, apparently macho-Dean couldn't hold his liquor.

She grinned.

"You did, didn't you?"

He ignored her question and threw her one of his own:

"You gonna move?"

"How about that? Dean Winchester can't hold-Hey!" She complained when his hands promptly gripped her arms and effortlessly picked her up to plop her down a few inches to the right.

She scowled at him as he gingerly ambled into the room:

"You know something? You and Sam really have to stop this routine you got going of just randomly picking me up and moving me like I'm some inanimate object. I'm a grown woman. I do get to pick where I go and what I do."

"Aw! That's cute!" He mocked with a teasing grin.

Amy sullenly crossed her arms over her chest and waited for the punch line.

"She really thinks she gets to have a say."

"Newsflash, caveman, I _do_ get to have a say."

He was up and with ground-eating steps readily closed the gap between them.

"Actually, after the stunt you pulled today," His finger poked her in the chest and she felt the urge to snap it. "all _you_ get to do is sit tight and do what Sam and I tell you to do."

Her eyes sparked at his provoking words but she quickly gathered her wits.

"But of course!" Then she eagerly clapped her hands together while delivering a sarcasm dripping: "Oh-oh and do I get a cookie? Do I, Master?"

It was intended to be condescending but, instead, her use of the title sparked a series of images to flash in his mind's eye, throwing him off course for a second. By the time he tuned in she was snapping her fingers in his face.

"You in there?"

"Huh?"

She frowned up at him, her eyes widening when he put on a smug grin and realisation kicked in:

"Ugh… You're disgusting!"

"I'm a guy!" He noted with a double eyebrow lift and a tight smile.

"Which in your world is synonymous with pig!" She quipped back.

Walking around him she snatched a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and disappeared once again into the bathroom.

He plopped down on the mattress and stared up at the ceiling. All the while he wondered how he'd ended up in this situation – running from some badass demon-chick and stuck with… her.

He eyed the ring safely lodged in his finger. The thick silver band was both his deliverance and his doom. The way he perceived it, it came down to a choice between two nightmares – take off the ring and go directly to hell, '_do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars_', or keep it on and live in the misery of being ridiculously infatuated with the most maddening woman he'd known to date. Who, by the way, just happened to be his brother's new girlfriend!

Which was worst? The jury was still out on that one.

He propped his head up to see her walk out of the bathroom. Her auburn locks framed her freshly washed face and she wore a plain white t-shirt and a tight pair of shorts which, unfortunately, earned their title.

_'Maybe hell ain't that bad a place._' He gulped.

"Window or door?"

"Huh?"

His brain was still fixed on her legs.

She pointed at the bed and elaborated:

"Which side?"

"Oh… Um… I'll take this one."

She figured he'd choose the side closest to the door.

_'Ever the watchful soldier.'_

Shrugging, she went around and sat down.

When she laid down and reached for the bedcovering, she was surprised by yet another charming bit of info - one sheet.

Yep, karma was kicking her butt.

He shifted and she curled further away from him in the dark room.

If she edged any closer to the border of the mattress she would topple over.

_'I'm never getting another decent night's sleep, am I?'_

The same question haunted Dean as he tugged at the sheet. As if to prove Newton's third law, he felt a sharp jerk in the opposite direction.

He pulled more aggressively and Amy responded in kind. Another yank from Dean and:

"Do you mind?"

He gruffly rolled onto his left side and faced her. The light coming from the window shaded her skin in navy hues.

"I do! I'm cold!"

"So am I!"

"Well, maybe if you kept a little closer we'd be able to share." He pointed out. "I'm not gonna bite."

"No, but you might try to jump me."

She'd been so caught up in the fast-paced banter she'd failed to process her reply.

_'I can't believe I just said that!'_

Out of all the uncomfortable and embarrassing moments she'd managed to pile up over the course of the last three weeks, this one had just entered the list straight in at number one.

_'You go girl!'_ Her brain ridiculed her.

He really didn't see that one coming. He thought they'd had a secret agreement not to mention the little lip-locking incident.

_'She broke the deal.'_

Oh, the gloves were off, baby!

"Jump you? I seem to remember you were quite the eager participant!"

"I did not-"

"No?!"

Both propped themselves on their elbows simultaneously.

"Do you want me to show you the bite marks?" He curled his lower lip for proof.

"I do not bite!" She scowled and avoided looking at his mouth which, indeed sported a fresh nick.

"Oh, yes you do, sweetheart! You're a bitter… _And_ a scratcher!" He sat up and his hands readily moved to the hem of his t-shirt to pull it over his shoulders.

"You'll just make up any excuse to get your shirt off, won't you?"

Her snazzy retort halted him.

"Just proving a point, sweet cheeks."

She sat up straight and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Ever think that was me trying to push you away, smartass?"

"You call shoving your tongue into my mouth pushing away? Well, well I wonder what you do when you _are_ up for it."

She was assaulted by the intense urge to smack that cocky smirk off his face.

"Excuse me?! You're the one who did the tongue-shoving. I was too busy trying to keep from suffocating!"

"Yeah, by grinding against me." He humph-ed and her jaw dropped in disbelief.

"I was shoving you off of me!"

His thumb signalled the door.

"Did you land on your head back there, amnesia girl?"

"You kissed me!" She accused glaring at him.

He dangerously leaned in hissing:

"And you kissed back."

"In you're dreams, maybe."

The two drew closer as the argument built up.

"Nightmares." He corrected.

"Nightmares, really?" She lifted her chin snidely. "Then why'd you kiss me?"

That one caught him off guard and the only thing he could think of on the spot was:

"Sure fire way to shut you up."

"You kissed me to shut me up?"

"Did the trick, didn't it?"

She ignored the sting in her chest and continued:

"I'll tell you what. Next time you want me to shut up? Just ask, ok?"

"I would, if it actually worked!" He snapped at her.

"If it'll keep you from kissing me again…"

He chuckled at that.

"What?!" She demanded.

"Sweetheart, I don't think it's physically possible for you to shut up…" He paused before adding: "…ever!"

"I can shut up if-"

"Ok, then! Shut up!"

"But-"

"A-ah!" He exclaimed. "You can't, can you?"

Her mouth opened to sneer something but she stopped herself just as he widened his eyes at her.

For the next three seconds they engaged in yet another staring contest until Amy broke up by getting up. Dean's self-satisfied inflating of his chest halted when he saw her snatch her purse and stomp her way towards the door.

"Where are you going, now?" He sighed.

She faced him, pointed at her mouth, reminding him of their deal and blissfully whirled around to leave.

Dean was standing between her and the door before her brain even registered he'd moved.

"Where're you going?"

There was an evident change in the pitch of his voice.

She was going to Sam, wasn't she? And he should let her. He should. He should just fight this ludicrous, troglodyte urge to fling her over his shoulder and drag her back to the bed. His bed.

"Where are you going, Amy?"

He said her name and the butterflies popped-up again in her stomach. She fought them.

"I thought I was supposed to shut up."

He ignored her quip and asked the question for the third time. Under his intense stare she felt compelled to answer:

"I need a smoke."

Too hoarse. That had come out too hoarse and she could read in his expression that he'd picked up on her unease.

"No, you're not…"

She frowned. That was unexpected.

"You're going to him."

What? Him? Who?

"Huh?"

She had to crane her neck to meet his eyes as they stood toe-to-toe.

"You don't need to pretend, it's not like I don't know."

Out of habit, his hands glided to protectively shove themselves into the front pockets of his jeans, except, he wasn't wearing any, so he settled for awkwardly swinging his arms at his sides.

What was going on here? And what was this new attitude of his? Was that sadness in his demeanour? What-?

Pointing at a random spot in front of her she said:

"Insert subtitles here, please."

"I know about you and Sam."

His stance morphed into a more familiar one of pride and spitefulness, which was easier to deal with, if she only knew what the heck he was yapping about?

"Sam and I…?"

He nodded and made a childish face.

She eyed him for a moment and when he didn't elaborate she replied:

"O-kay… I'm going to stick with… '_huh'_?"

"I know about you two."

"The two of us what?"

"Are you just going to keep repeat everything say in the form of a question?"

"Until you start making a lick of sense? Yeah!" She nodded readily.

"You and Sam are bumping uglies."

He finally came out with it and she just gawked up at him.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

He was pretty sure that, in any other situation, he would have considered the gobsmacked expression on her face to be hilarious, cute even, but at that moment the lack of an actual response was beginning to unnerve him.

"So…"

She continued to gape at him; her brain trying to wrap itself around the bit of information that had just been chucked her way.

"Um…" She furrowed her brows and he retorted:

"What?! You going to deny it?"

The seconds ticked away, but eventually she uttered:

"Sam and I are bumping the what?"

"Uglies."

"You mean sex?"

Oh, why did she have to go and say it? Now he was stuck with a mental picture that was making him want to heave.

"Yeah, I mean sex." He sighed.

"Why would you think that Sam and I are having sex?"

Could she just stop saying that? He'd already spilled his guts once tonight. No need for instant replays.

"When you walk into a room to find a girl in a guy's bed wearing nothing but his shirt, the puzzle just kinda solves itself."

"Are you talking about this morning?"

The memory popped into his head bringing with it a fresh onslaught of nausea.

God, she was dragging this out wasn't she?

Reluctantly, he played along and nodded.

He did have a point. She could see how the whole scenario could be misconstrued.

"I'm not a big fan of clichés but _that_ was definitely not what it looked like."

His throat knotted; anticipation and a glimmer of hope catching him off guard.

"So you didn't…" He trailed off but she didn't seem to be in a merciful mood:

"Have sex?"

"Ok! Could we just agree not to use that word, again?" He exclaimed.

"What? Sex?"

"Yeah!"

"What's wrong with the word-"

"You're just gonna keep saying it, aren't you?" The annoyance was evident in his question.

She narrowed her eyes at him and put her newly formed theory to the test:

"Sex."

There it was! Just to make sure:

"Sex."

She smiled and he growled:

"What?!"

"Your eye does this little twitching thing every time I say it."

"No it doesn't."

"Yes, it does. Look - Sex! A-ha, see, right there!"

He swatted her pointing finger away.

"Not funny."

She grinned.

"Dean Winchester, world class womaniser twitching at the word sex?" She mockingly slited her eyes and tilted her head. "It's a little funny."

He'd had enough of this.

"Did you or did you not sleep with Sam?"

The word ultimatum jumped to the forefront of her brain. Amy didn't deal well with ultimatums. She straightened her back to achieve her full height, which wasn't much next to Dean but it would have to do.

"I don't think that is any of your business."

"So you did sleep with him." He accused.

She was starting to get ticked off by this macho display.

"Once again… I fail to see how who I sleep with is any of your business."

He took a step forward, effectively dissipating what little distance was left between them. She waited for a reply, but all he did was stare down at her and she had to fight not to fidget under this intense scrutiny.

His gaze alternated between her eyes as if he were trying to read them. She could feel her cheeks heating up and was pretty sure they were currently sporting a brand new shade of pink.

The suffocating silence that made their soft breaths sound like harsh gasps got to her and she spoke:

"And what if we did?"

Darkness flooded his green iris as his pupils dilated but she was surprised when after a second his jaw muscles relaxed.

"You didn't."

It wasn't a question. He was merely stating a fact.

Shocked by the certainty in his tone, she was still successful in keeping up her unfazed outward appearance.

"How do you know?"

"You didn't." He repeated nonchalantly and then proceeded to breeze past her to flop down on the mattress.

She instantly whirled around coming to tower over his laying form.

With his eyes closed, he used his forearms as a pillow. It appeared that, as far as he was concerned, this conversation was over.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you." She stood with her arms stubbornly crossed over her chest.

"You're not me, so…"

"What makes you so sure?"

He popped one eye open and explained with a sideways smirk:

"When you've been on the job as long as I have you learn to read people."

"Maybe you should go back to school, cause… your reading skills? They kinda suck." She pursed her lips for a sardonic smile and walked around the mattress to take up her side of it.

She heard him chuckle and something snapped inside of her. Propping herself up on her elbows she sneered:

"If you must know we did have _sex_!" She emphasized the last word and got another muscle spasm from Dean. "And, by the way, Sam is a much better kisser than you."

That did the trick. She wanted to piss him off? Well, she got it!

His eyes snapped open to pin her as he sat up.

"Oh, now I _know_ you're lying!"

"Am I? Are you sure about that?"

He glared at her.

"You done reading? Tell me, what does my face say?" She dared him.

He leaned in and her breathing hitched.

"That your pants are on fire." His accusing voice was low.

She ignored the butterfly-fest bursting in her gut and jeered:

"You should really consider a career change, sweetie."

"And you're lying, sweetheart."

He was too close and it was making it basically impossible for her to come up with a stylish quip so, jutting out her chin obstinately, she went for the first thing that popped into her muddled brain:

"Sam doesn't slobber."

"I don't slobber!" He exclaimed offended.

"Yeah, you do." She insisted.

"I'm a damn good kisser!" He countered.

"Sam's better."

"Liar!"

"Slobber!"

"Spoiled brat!" He gritted.

"Arrogant smartass!" She spat.

"Conceited bitch." He spat back.

She took offence to that, not the bitch part though.

"I'm conceited? I'm not the one boasting that I'm the world's greatest kisser."

"It's not boasting if it's true." He replied cockily.

She readjusted her weight on her elbows, accidentally bringing her face closer to his in the process and, for a moment, he thought she was going to...

Was she going to kiss him?

"You're conceited _and_ deluded. What a delightful combination!" She mocked.

He was still struggling to keep his racing pulse under control. He'd really thought she was leaning in to… He gulped at the imagery flashing in his head.

"You're not all that, you know? Sure, you're sort of attractive in a Neanderthal-grunting kind of way, but-"

That grabbed his attention.

"You think I'm attractive?"

"It's amazing how you just breezed right past the whole Neanderthal-grunting part of that sentence!" She shook her head.

It was a nice way to avoid eye contact, if only for a second.

"You didn't answer the question." He pointed out cocking an eyebrow at her.

When she squirmed he singsonged:

"You've got the hots for me."

His arrogance spurred her to blurt out:

"So, you've got the hots for me too."

If they were characters in a comic book they'd have a giant '_Ops!'_ thought balloon hovering over both their heads.

"Yeah, well it's only cause of this stupid ring you pinned on me." He protested wiggling his finger in her face before jumping out of bed.

He'd reached the time limit for being that close to her and not doing anything about it. He could feel his muscles straining under the effort to keep his wired body under control.

She sat up and demanded:

"What was I supposed to do? Just let the hellhounds get you?"

He brought his pacing to a sudden halt.

"Maybe you should have."

"Oh, way to show gratitude, Winchester!" She scoffed.

"Gratitude? For what?! Making me live in this hell?"

"As apposed to _actual_ hell?" She quipped.

"I'm starting to wonder if it's really all that's cracked up to be."

"You're joking right?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" He inquired with an undertone of disdain that ticked her off.

"You think you've got it rough?" She fumed getting up and stomping her way up to him. "I had to leave _my_ home because of some whacked out ubberdemon wants by head on a stick for saving your sorry ass. Now I'm living out of a duffle bag being shoved into car trunks and coffins, chased down by floating heads and getting into bar fights. Bar fights! This is _not_ what I signed up for. This is _not_ how I wanted my life to turn out! So tell me, what's so different about the way you're living your life? As far as I can tell this _is_ your life. Nothing's changed."

"Everything's changed. You're here!"

"Oh, I'm sorry if my presence is so upsetting to you." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Upsetting? That's the understatement of the year."

"What did I do?!" She asked offended.

"You're everywhere! Every time I turn around, there you are!"

And the rant was on.

"Looking the way you do, and smelling-"

"What's wrong with the way I smell?"

He wasn't listening anymore, the floodgates were open.

"And you just won't shut up! Even when you do I can still hear you in my head. I can't sleep, cause when I close my eyes… Yep! There you are again! Yapping and nagging and God, why won't you _just_ shut up for once!"

"That's it!" She managed to push the words through her strangled throat. "I'm done with this!"

When she attempted to turn on her heels he gripped her arms, whirling her around and she crashed into his chest.

"I'm not." He growled.

She struggled to free herself, but his hands clutched both her arms.

"You wanna know what's different? _Every_. _Single_. _Second_. Since I've been back I can't seem to be able to get away from you. I tried ignoring you. I tried hating, but nothing works and the thought of anyone touching you, the thought of Sam-"

"Will you let that go, already?!" She yelled jerking herself out of his hold on her. "I didn't sleep with Sam!"

Dean froze.

"You didn't?"

"I thought we'd established that with the whole face-reading bit of this conversation."

There was a pause.

"I was bluffing."

The raggedness in his voice snapped her to attention and for the first time she took in his widened eyes and the hurried rise and fall of his chest.

"Oh!" She breathed, noting the erratic pounding of her own heart.

It skipped a beat when he drew closer, invading her personal space, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze.

"S-Sam…"

Great, she was stuttering! How was she supposed to keep her voice steady with him looking at her like that?

"…and I are just friends."

He slanted towards her and she jumped back, her hand on his chest.

"What are you doing?"

He did it again and this time, when she jolted, she felt the edge of mattress against the back of her knees.

"Winchester, maybe we should-" She pushed him with the palm of her hand and corrected: "Maybe _you_ should… take a step back."

He didn't budge, instead, his arm wrapped around her tiny waist to drag her up towards him and her hand abandoned his chest to grab a hold of his arm.

She was terrified and giddy at the same time. The unfamiliar pull towards him overwhelming her and causing her to nervously attempt to lighten the mood by awkwardly chuckling:

"We-we don't like each other. Hell, we hate each other."

"I don't hate you." His eyes were on her mouth and she felt it dry up.

"You have a funny way of showing it." She was going for cocky and self-assured detachment; it came out feeble and fretful.

He looked up from her lips and she gulped.

"You're not going to be able to talk yourself out of this. You know that, right?"

She forced out a disdainful chuckle.

"Oh, I can talk myself out of any-"

His mouth was on hers, cutting her off, his arms folding around her small frame, hauling her off her feet, until she was straining on the tip of her toes.

If her brain was planning on putting up some kind of resistance, her body wasn't in on it, because as soon as his lips crashed against hers, one small hand fisted into his t-shirt while the other gripped the back of his neck and gruffly tugged him closer.

Her fingers delved into his hair, her tongue into his mouth, meeting his attack with matching eagerness. She felt the rumbling in his chest as he growled against her lips when he pushed his hips into hers, hard and impatient.

They moved in unison, all the while battling for dominance, neither willing to back down.

She was faintly aware of a rush of cool air down closely followed by a sharp sting as her bruised lower back connected with a flat surface. Momentarily opening her eyes, they met the ceiling, and her jumbled mind registered her newly acquired position – flat on her back, on the bed, with Dean's body covering hers.

Her vision blurred, her lungs protested against the shortage of oxygen supply and she reluctantly tore her mouth away from his, just long enough to get in a few gulps of much needed air.

He, on the other hand, continued his assault on her by trailing open-mouth kisses down the column of her neck.

The way she tasted… Jesus, it was like nothing else. Addictive. He couldn't get enough of it!

She responded by arching off the mattress, into his touch. He seized the opportunity to glide one hand down the small of her back, slip it under the lining on her shorts and squeeze the mound of flesh he found hidden there, effectively grinding her hips against his.

"Fuck…"

She heard him curse into her collarbone.

This move elicited a keen response from her. Fisting her hand into his hair she yanked him up and captured his mouth once more. When she was satisfied with his tongue, her teeth bit down on his lower lip and he broke the kiss for a moan.

Their foreheads rested against each other and the two drew harsh, frantic pants.

"Tell me…" She was still rubbing up against him and he could barely get the words out. "That biting thing…"

Her leg hooked around his waist and he felt her heat through the thin layers of clothing that separated their pelvises.

Why was he talking?

"…is that you trying to push me away."

Why was he talking? He was taking because Dean Winchester was an idiot!

He knew he'd botched everything up when he felt her freeze underneath him. The murderous look she was giving him right now erased any remaining doubts.

"No."

With one violent push of her hands she propelled him off of her and over the edge of the mattress to land his moronic ass on the hardwood floor.

"_This_ is me pushing you away."

By the time he'd clumsily stumbled onto his feet she was standing on the other side of the bed, straightening her messed up hair and fuming.

"I-I was joking!" He ineptly chuckled.

_'Man, I'm an idiot.'_

"You're an idiot."

_'I know.'_

"And this…" A shaky finger alternated between pointing at him and herself. "This sick… _thing_… is _never_ happening again. Ever!"

She was about to storm out of the room, barefoot and all, she didn't care. She just needed to get away from him.

"Amy, wait, I-"

The door swung open and Amy found Sam on the other side, fist raised as if he were preparing to knock.

"Oh, good…" He frowned noticing the tension between the two reluctant roommates. "You guys are up. We better move."

"Good idea." Amy grumbled redirecting her angered exit strategy toward the bathroom.

"What happened?" Sam questioned after the door slammed shut.

"I'm an idiot."

Sam couldn't help it:

"And that's news?"

Author's note:

And the UST just keeps going. If any of you guys are familiar with my previous work in different fandoms you'll know that I'm a big fan of UST. ;)

Once again, thanks for sticking with the story, I hope you're liking it. ;)


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"So… we ever gonna talk about it?" Dean threw the question out in the open causing Sam to look up from his laptop with a frown.

Was he actually volunteering to speak on the subject of him and Amy? That just didn't seem anything like his brother.

To say that the long drive out of Dodge had been excruciating was quite a euphemism. Five hundred miles trapped in a car with two stubbornly silent people adamant on ignoring some glaring issues between them was just torture.

For the first one hundred miles, Sam had actually tried to make small talk. All he'd gotten for his trouble had been monosyllabic replies from Amy and grunts from Dean. So, eventually, he'd given up and they'd remained in complete and painful stillness all the way to the front desk of the motel they were currently staying at. Once there, Sam had booked two adjacent rooms, one for Amy and one for himself and his brother. The Winchester's had parted ways with the young doctor when she'd reached her door.

Dean had immediately slipped into his room while Sam had stayed behind for a couple of minutes. He'd handed her a piece of white chalk and reminded her of the steps she needed to take in order to keep her space demon-proof.

When he'd entered his own room, he'd found Dean already sprawled on the bed closest to the door. His eyes were shut, but Sam knew his brother well enough to recognise when he was feigning sleep. He didn't want to talk about it. That was crystal clear.

Ultimately, Dean had in fact dozed off only to wake from his slumber after three hours. He'd mumbled something unintelligible and had marched into the bathroom. When he'd returned, he'd plopped back onto the mattress and assumed his current position lying against the headboard of the bed, arms tightly crossed over his chest.

After two minutes of intense staring, Dean had finally come out with the surprising question.

"I didn't think you wanted to talk about it." Sam managed to say once he'd snapped out of his initial shock.

"Why wouldn't I want to talk about it?" It was Dean's turn to frown.

"I don't know, um… maybe cause you're emotionally challenged and frantically avoid all and any conversation that may remotely lead to the word '_feeling'_, much like one would avoid say… the plague." Sam mocked.

This only served to deepen the wrinkles between Dean's brows.

"Dude, what are you talking about?"

"Amy."

Dean visibly tensed up.

"I didn't mean her."

Over the last few weeks he'd learned it was best not to say her name out loud, it had a tendency to make his stomach spasm a little. So, he'd resorted to safer words like 'woman' or 'her' when referring to the aggravating redhead.

'_Ah, it figures_!'

Sam shook his head wearily.

"What?! There's nothing to talk about. She's a pain in the ass, but we're stuck with her if we want to keep my gorgeous tush out of hell." Dean summarized.

"Whatever, man." Sam shrugged and casually returned his attention to the screen of his laptop.

He had better things to do than try to pick and prod some smidgen of truth out of Dean when it came to the subject of Amy. It was definitely a sensitive topic and therefore not to be mentioned… ever.

"So we don't get along… It's not like it's my fault. The girl's a pest." Dean defended himself.

He waited for Sam to reply, but his younger brother simply continued staring at the computer.

"She has an opinion on everything!"

Sam looked up. Apparently, Dean had some venting to do, so he obliged him by asking:

"And that's a bad thing?"

"She's stubborn as a mule."

The younger Winchester cocked an eyebrow.

"And you're not?"

"Yeah, but when I do it it's cute." Dean countered with a grin.

"Oh, yeah, it's adorable." Sam snorted.

"She's constantly getting herself in trouble, risking her life and we're the ones left to clean up the mess." Dean continued his rant.

But Sam insisted on spoiling his fun.

"Kinda like you selling your soul and Amy having to save your sorry ass?"

Dean popped out of bed, waving his hand around as he stated:

"I never asked her for this stupid ring!"

Sam threw him a dirty look.

"It's making my life miserable." Dean almost whined.

"At least you're alive." Sam pointed out. "I can't believe how ungrateful you are, man. The woman hands you a _get out of hell_ card, getting herself in a whole world of trouble because of it and you can't even cut her some slack."

"I've cut her some slack." Dean protested.

That ticked Sam off.

"When?! Every time she says something you say the exact opposite. It's like you're purposefully trying to pick a fight."

"I've tried to be civil with her. But there's just no talking to that woman. She's impossible."

"Come on, man, you obviously like her."

"Like her? Dude, I can hardly stand her."

"Right…"

Dean was appalled.

"You think I like her?!"

"What's not to like? She's strong, opinionated, willing to risk her life for the people she cares about and pigheaded as hell. She's you, except in a pretty, testosterone-free package." Sam retorted.

"I'm prettier." Dean muttered, and then his brain registered something Sam had said. "Wait. You think she cares about me?"

"She turned her whole world upside down for you. What do you think?" Sam tilted his head in a clear sign of annoyance.

Dean, on his part, seemed engrossed in processing his brother's reasoning. He did make a valid point. Why else would she have done what she did?

Sam could almost see the cogs turning in Dean's dim-witted brain.

"I know you like her." Sam stated matter-of-factly. "It's only a question of how much."

Oh, no he didn't!

"Newsflash, Sammy, if there is any shred of me liking her it's only cause this ring is making me feel things."

Sam gave his brother another exasperated eye roll.

"The ring doesn't make you feel anything."

"Really? You want to slip this shinny trinket on and test that little theory of yours, Sammy?"

"I don't need to. I've done my home work. There is no mention of the Ocellina rings having any effect on the carrier's emotional state."

"You sure?" Dean questioned walking around to stand behind his brother while Sam opened a computer file tagged '_Ocellina'._

He scanned through its contents. There wasn't much there but Sam was correct.

"They were considered fakes. The consensus was that the mystic botched up the job since there has never been any evidence of them actually working…" Sam looked over his shoulder, catching Dean's eye to add: "…until you and Amy, that is."

There was a heavy pause and a chill ran down Dean's spine, but he recovered quickly to continue with trademark nonchalance:

"Well, they work. No other explanation for the hellhounds backing out, right?"

Sam nodded.

"Speaking of which… why didn't you… you know…" Dean felt a knot forming in his throat at what he was about to say. "…drop dead the second I managed to weasel out of the deal?"

"My best guess would be because when you made the deal you and Amy had already exchanged vows."

"Oh, don't say it like that."

Sam feigned innocence:

"Like what?"

"Like Carrot-head and I are married, or something."

"No, you're not… you're soul mates."

Sam smirked at his brother's cringe.

"You're enjoying this too much, Sammy." Dean grumbled going back to the bed and sitting down.

"Anyway, since the… thing between you and Amy came before the crossroads deal, it technically means you didn't do anything to weasel out of it." Sam concluded.

Dean stared at the metallic loop as he worried the ring in his finger, for an instance before asking:

"You say you're sure these things don't mess with a guy's mind."

"Can't be one hundred sure but…"

"Then why would this Ofelia chick-"

"Ocellina."

"Whatever. Why would she want them if they didn't have some major Romeo-effect on the dude she wanted to marry?"

Sam didn't have an answer to that and Dean glanced up to throw him a classic '_A-ha!' _look.

"Why do you think they worked this time?" Sam questioned.

"Don't know. Maybe the incantation was never done the right way."

"Come on, Amy's parents were occult experts. If they couldn't make the spell work do you really think a couple of kids would? Going by your Latin I would say it's highly unlikely." Sam snorted.

Dean's attention was back on the ring, ignoring his brother's jab.

Sam sighed and resumed with a graver tone:

"I guess the real question here is…"

Dean looked up.

"Why did it work with you and Amy?"

"What about me?"

Startled, the two men jolted in their seat and looked in the direction of the door to find Amy stepping inside the room.

"We were-"

"Nothing." Dean cut in, standing up abruptly.

"O-kay…" Amy searched Sam's face for an explanation.

He squirmed under the intense stare and, straitening up, awkwardly announced:

"I'm taking a shower."

With that he began closing his computer and every key stroke resounded loudly in the sudden stillness. As always, Amy felt compelled to break it:

"Well, as much as I love uncomfortable silences - God knows we haven't had enough of those over the last few days - I'm hungry!"

"I could eat." Dean agreed and whispered as Sam passed by on his way to the bathroom: "See, I don't always disagree with her."

Sam didn't even bother replying as he continued into the bathroom, leaving the couple alone.

And the umpteenth awkward moment between the two was on. Thankfully, Dean didn't seem too keen on enduring another round of dead silence either as he spoke up:

"How about we order pizza?"

"Sounds good."

He walked over to the telephone.

"Any special request?"

"Not really. Just wanna eat."

Man, she did sound like him at times.

"Ok." He began dialling when he heard her utter ineptly:

"I-I'll just be in my room. Let me know when they're here?"

She was out the door before Dean could finish nodding.

"Pizza's here." Sam called out loud enough for Dean to hear him from the bathroom.

"It's your turn to pay."

Dean hollered back over the sound of water running.

"It's always my turn to pay." Sam grumbled opening the door and paying the red-cap wearing kid who, in turn, handed him their dinner.

He set the two large boxes on the table, side by side and flipped both lids, one at a time.

He frowned when he saw the unusual topping on the first one.

"Pineapple?"

Since when did Dean like anything but meat on his pizza? The second one was the more traditional sausage and beef pizza with extra pepperoni. Well, at least traditional according to Dean Winchester.

The frown was still on Sam's face when Dean stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a damp towel; a gush of steam trailing after him.

"Dude, what the hell? Pineapple?"

He was about to reply when the front door opened and a starved Amy waltzed in. Her stride faltered when she caught a glimpse of a half-naked, soaked Dean.

"Hey, you can't just bust into a guy's room like that!" Dean protested, even though his heart proudly skipped a beat.

He'd caught the hit of lust in her gaze, just before she'd managed to avert it towards the open boxes on the table.

"I've seen you naked, Winchester." Amy humph-ed. "It's not novelty."

She was satisfied with the smoothness in her voice and mentally gave herself a pat on the back for it while reaching for a large slice of pizza.

"Um… pineapple!" She hummed just before taking a bulky bite out of it.

_'Ok. Pineapple explained.'_ Sam thought as he watched her revel in the flavour.

All three sat around the table, Sam strategically placed between the two hotheads.

Gradually, the pieces began disappearing from the two cartons, the two boys focussing on the meaty pizza, while Amy delighted herself with the Hawaiian style delight. The Winchesters were surprised to find that she had no trouble keeping up with them.

When she reached for her sixth slice the brother's halted their pizza-guzzling to exchange a look.

"What?" She asked without interrupting her pleased munching.

"Nothing. Just wondering where you put all that food?" Dean replied.

"Where do you put it?" Amy retorted wolfing down the rest.

"You gobbled down over half of a fourteen inch pizza!" Dean exclaimed on his defence.

"So did you and Sam."

"We're guys!"

"And I like pizza." She replied casually, dusting off her hands, and stretching back on her chair.

"Clearly!"

"Ugh…" She groaned when her stomach showed the first signs of objection against the violent assault it had been subjected to.

Dean and Sam gave her a worried sideways glance. She didn't look good.

"I think I need to go to the bathroom." She'd barely finished that sentence when the door closed behind her.

"Twenty bucks says she's gonna hurl." Dean offered and Sam shook his head disapprovingly.

"How'd you know about the pineapple thing?"

Dean shrugged and answered dismissively:

"One time her mom made pizza for us and I remember hers had pineapple on it."

Sam searched his memories and came up empty.

"When was that?"

Dean responded with a mouthful:

"After that Wendigo job Dad did with Bobby. Bobby got hurt and we stopped at the Carrington's so Amy's mom could patch him up."

"I remember that." Sam recalled vaguely. "I don't remember the pizza, though."

"You were probably too young to remember."

"Dude, I was eleven." Sam exclaimed.

"So?"

"So, I was old enough to remember things. Lots of thing, just not tiny details like what I ate that day, let alone what Amy ate."

Whatever Sam was hinting at was pissing Dean off.

"What is this? The Inquisition? So I remembered that the girl likes fruit in her pizza, big deal. It's an odd choice of topping; it stuck out in my mind."

"Not really, a lot of folks eat Hawaiian style pizza." Sam pointed out.

"We don't."

"Well, actually…" Sam trailed off and poignantly glanced at the slice Dean was currently shoving into his mouth.

"What?! Dude, I'm hungry. You know me, I'll eat anything." One last bite and he added: "Plus, it kinda grows on you."

"Apparently…"

Dean tossed the crust into the now empty box and glared at Sam:

"Dude, just let it go, alright?"

Amy's grunts of pain came to Dean's rescue as she stumbled into the room, holding her belly:

"Oh, God!"

The two brothers eyed her struggling to walk in a straight line. She was aiming for her chair, but it was all the way across the room, so she let out another groan and gracelessly flopped onto the nearest bed. The mattress squeaked under her burden, wobbling for a couple of seconds before settling.

"Um… I don't feel so good…"

"That's a surprise!" Dean jeered and Amy popped one single lid to deliver a feeble death glare.

"Are you ok?" A worried Sam intervened. "Do you need something?"

She held onto her stomach and rolled onto her side; her facial expression leaving no doubts about her current state of nausea.

"Some club soda…" She was able to whine.

Club soda? Where the hell could you get club soda? It wasn't something they usually bought.

"There's a seven-eleven down the road. I'll check to see if they have any." Sam offered hastily and before Dean could object he was out the door, the keys to the Impala in his hand.

So there he was… alone with her… again.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

**Author' note:**

After so many people writing asking me how I pictured Amy, I decided to make a banner.

You can check it out - "htt p/i108./albums/n14/Echidnaspen/SY.jpg"

When she turned on the bed for the third time, clutching her stomach, a smidgen of worry crept inside Dean and he was compelled to inquire:

"Do you need to puke or something?"

"I don't puke…" She grudgingly moaned the words, shutting her eyes tightly for a desperate cringe.

He tentatively drew closer and eventually crouched down next to her.

"Sam's gonna be back any minute now."

Her lids fluttered open at the unexpected concern palpable in his voice. Their gazes locked and her breath hitched.

_'Focus on the nausea. Just focus on the damned nausea, Amy!' _She ordered her muddled brain as her heart insisted on drumming away a hasty beat. _'You're sick and you want to heave. Those aren't butterflies you're getting; that's just your run-of-the-mill stomach spasm because you idiotically stuffed your face in with enough food to feed a small country.'_

After ten second of this mental scolding it became blatantly clear that her body wasn't in a complying mood and she closed her eyes to escape the nerve-wracking connection.

He silently thanked her for it. If she hadn't broken eye contact, he was pretty sure he would have had to in order to keep his own heartbeat and breathing in check.

He kept reminding himself that she was a borderline suicidal spitfire who was currently the bane of his existence but, somehow, his mind didn't seem to want to assimilate that fact.

A spitfire alright… a pesky, infuriating spitfire, that had turned his relatively organized world on its head.

He wasn't fooled by the soft features of her face, the angelic sight of her laying there, on Sam's bed, auburn locks splayed across crispy white sheets. Nope, he wasn't fooled at all. There was nothing domesticated or tame about this one… and the thought of it made his blood race.

Even with her eyes closed, the rest of her senses remained keenly alert, picking up on all and any evidence that could give her a sense of what was happening around her.

His scent, the hum of uneven pants and the way her skin prickled every time a gush of his warm breath would rush over the thin layer of hairs on her forearm… all these things told her he was still close. Very close.

But, abruptly, all these sensations suddenly halted, directly followed by the sound of a door slamming shut.

The bang came from the direction of the bathroom. He must have just walked out of the room. She frowned.

Wait, hadn't he just taken a shower? Why was the water running?

Her cheeks flushed at the R rated explanation her brain provided.

One long and cold shower later and he felt ready to face her again.

When he entered the room she was still on Sam's bed, knees brought close to her stomach, arms cushioned under her head.

The pattern of her breathing told him she was sleeping and before he could realise what he was doing he was once more crouching at her side; one irresponsible hand reaching out to brush away a rebellious scarlet loop draped across her face.

He jolted back when the front door of the motel room swung open to reveal a panting Sam.

Ineptly and hurriedly, Dean scrambled to his feet, guilty hands burrowing into the front pockets of his jeans in a pathetic attempt to hide their previous intentions.

"No, club-soda, huh?" Dean noted coolly. "That can't be a good sign."

"Bobby called." Sam announced and then frowned when he noticed something: "Dude, did you take another shower?"

Dean froze.

"W-what?"

"Why's your hair wet?" Sam questioned pointing at his soaked head.

Awkwardly, Dean ran his hand across his scalp.

"It was hot."

Sam's gaze bounced from Dean to Amy and then poignantly settled back on the hunter as he mocked:

"Yeah, I bet it did."

"Shut up!" Dean growled while Sam grinned broadly.

Man, Dean Winchester was falling for Amy Carrington! He never would have pictured it in a million years, but sure enough-

"What did Bobby want?" A prissy Dean cut off Sam's trail of thought.

At the question, Sam immediately sobered up. What he said next caught Dean off guard:

"He's found the Colt."

Stepping out into the front porch of the sleazy motel, Dean resumed their conversation:

"I thought the Colt was gone. Bella handed it over to Lilly."

"Just another one of Bella's lies we get to file away along with all the other crap she fed us. Bobby tracked it down to some guy in Dallas, Mark Gillian."

"That bitch!" Dean was still stuck on that fact that Bella had once again deceived him and, like an idiot, he'd fallen for it.

"Seems this dude conned Bella out of it and disappeared off the face of the planet. He popped back on the radar a couple of weeks ago when he started probing the market for potential buyers."

"That fucking bitch!"

"Dude, can we move on."

"Huh? Oh, sorry, man, I'm just… I can't believe I bought into it. Why would she have lied about it?"

"I don't know? One last chance to screw you over?" Sam offered with a shrug.

"One thing I can guarantee you. I ever end up in hell? That stuck-up bitch is gonna get what's coming to her!"

"That's nice!" Sam said sarcastically. "Now can we focus on keeping you out of hell?"

"Right. Dallas, huh?"

Sam nodded.

"Well, put on your cowboy hat Sam, first thing in the morning we're heading out to Texas." Dean decided.

"Where're you going?" Sam asked when his bother began striding away from the door that led to their room.

"Amy fell asleep on your bed." Dean explained.

"So? Why are you going to her room? Your bed is free."

"I can't sleep in there."

"Why not?!"

Dean widened his eyes at Sam.

Wasn't it obvious?

"Dude, I really need to get a good night's sleep."

Sam was like a dog with a bone. He just wasn't going to miss the opportunity to ultimately mess with his brother.

"Then go to sleep. In your bed. I'll take Amy's." And with that Sam walked past Dean.

He wasn't able to take more than three steps before Dean hastily scuttled into his path, blocking his passage.

"I'm serious. I can't sleep in there with her."

Oh, this was too much fun!

"Why not?" Sam asked casually.

"What do you mean why not?! Cause she's in there!"

Dean fisted his hands barely containing the urge to punch his annoying little brother.

"Boy, you really have a thing for her, don't you?"

"I don't have a thing!" Dean quickly denied. "What I have is a damn ring! That's what I have."

"Ok, I'll tell you what. I'll take your bed."

"Thank you."

But Dean's relief was stamped out when Sam added a condition:

"If you admit that it's not all because of the ring."

"What?"

"You like her and it's not cause of the ring."

"Yes, it is."

Sam's reply? Raising a sceptical eyebrow.

After a long, unsettling pause Dean broke the staring contest:

"Dude, why are you so obsessed about this?"

"Because in all the years I've known you, I've never seen a girl get to you like Amy does. You never lose sleep over anything… Ever! It's like you have an off button or something. You just flip it and you're in la-la land."

Dean pondered his options for a moment and then relented:

"Fine! It's not all because of the ring. I'm madly in love with her. That what you want to hear?"

"Yep."

Sam popped that 'p' and beamed a self-satisfied grin.

"Dude, I'm like a second away from full on Bruce Lee-ing your scrawny ass all the way to the next county." Dean warned.

Thankfully, Sam smugly whirled on his heel and headed to their room before Dean had a chance to execute his threat.

"You do know I just said that to get you to shut up, right?"

Sam heard his brother bellow from behind him.

"Whatever, man." Sam said dismissively, not bothering to turn and face him.

"I don't like her!" Dean insisted, but Sam was already stepping inside the room and muttering:

"Night, Dean."

With that, the older Winchester was left talking to himself on the porch.

"In loved…" He puffed.

He'd been in love exactly once in his life and he wasn't about to make that mistake ever again. Plus, the emotions that Cassie had brought out in him bore no resemblance to the absolute chaos Amy Carrington caused.

"Nope! Not in love." He decided firmly, flopping down on the bed and instantly being assaulted by a disconcerting scent.

Her scent… it was imprinted in the sheets and he felt suffocated by it, yet he couldn't help rolling over and burrowing his face into the pillow.

"Shit!" He let out the frustrated curse, lazily settling on his back to stare up at the ceiling. "I'm so fucked." He swore when he actually found himself wishing that his feelings for Amy would resemble his affections for Cassie.

His life would be a lot less complicated that way. Instead he was stuck with this… this thing… whatever it was. This thing that didn't let his sleep, didn't let him think straight, didn't- Where the hell was his hand going?

From the ceiling his eyes snapped to find his hand just about to slip under the fastening of his jeans.

Great! First no control over his thoughts and now his body! He was about to jerk his mutinous hand away from its target when he made the stupid mistake of inhaling through his nostrils.

Eager fingers were felt unrestrained and allowed to wander further down his body; heavy lids fell closed and the fantasy flooded his mind.

He didn't care anymore.

With a loose hold he began sliding up and down, slow and steady, almost shyly at first, but like with everything thing else concerning her it didn't remain soothing and calm for long.

_'Hey…'_ She whispered spreading her body over his, her lips worrying the column of his neck.

In his mind his fingers dug into her mischievous thighs, forcing them down while he ground into her. She sat up, straddling him and setting a cruel and fraught pace. His jaw clenched and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he tightened his grip and pumped harder.

_'So… You never liked me, huh?'_ Fantasy Amy questioned cockily as she continued to ride him.

"No."

His hoarse voice echoed in the empty room.

'_Why not?'_

His fist tightened, the pace accelerated as she grinded down and arched her back, exposing herself.

"Cause you've always been a stuck up little… ugh… brat that… fuck!" He growled; his tone strained and desperate.

'_That didn't give you the time of day?'_

He was nodding like an idiot against the pillow.

_'No matter how much you tried to get my attention I just ignored you, huh?'_

Even her hair teased him mercilessly, dropping down the front of her chest, giving him only fleeting glimpses of her breasts. He tried to sit up but her hands gruffly pushed him down.

'_Do you still have it?'_

He knew what she was talking about but he wasn't about to admit it; even if she was a figment of his imagination. He'd decided a long time ago to keep that banned memory neatly buried in his unconscious and that's were it was going to stay.

'_Come on… I know you have it.'_

Fantasy Amy smiled.

"Shut up!" He demanded to an empty room.

'_Why do you carry it with you after all this time?'_

His hips urgently met his fist and he pumped harder and faster.

'_What if Sam sees it?'_

Why would Sam see it? He knew better than to go through his wallet.

'_Admit it, __Winchester._'

He shook his head in violent denial and when the delicious motions of her hips came to a screeching halt he let out a frantic moan.

She pinned him down with her steely green eyes.

'_Admit it.'_

In his mind he stared frozen and wide eyed up at her.

Gradually, after a beat, she began to move again and so did his hand.

_'Say it…'_ She urged him, picking up speed, grinding faster and faster. '_Say it… Dean.'_

"Christ!" The cry was gravely and strangled, his hips bucked upwards into his hands and he finally allowed his mind to accept '_It's always been you.' _and the rush of pleasure seized his body.

It seemed like forever before his breathing settled, but eventually it did and his eyes open to inspect his pathetic situation.

Fuck… he was so fucked.


	28. Chapter 28

** Chapter 28**

Dean turned the key in the ignition and the low rumbling coming from under the hood came to a halt.

"Wow." Amy couldn't help exclaiming at the sight of the two-story, glass house perched on top of the hill.

A few miles outside of Dallas, it was located in a relatively secluded area, the only access being the long winding road the Impala had just travelled. When the driveway had come into view, Dean had driven the car off the main road and had parked it behind some shrubbery. Keeping a safe distance, it was close enough to monitor the resident's coming and goings, but equally sheltered enough to remain unnoticed.

"You boys should really consider flipping sides. Evil pays better." Amy commented still staring out the back window, gobsmacked at the building's aesthetics.

The only reply she got was a disdainful humph from Dean.

After a few moments, she spoke again:

"So? Now what?"

"We wait for this guy to leave and then we go in." Sam informed.

The way he settled back in his seat, outstretching his legs, made Amy suspect they were in for a long wait.

She was right.

The minutes ticked away languorously and after four cigarette trips around the car – yes, Dean insisted in upholding his absurd no-smoking in the Impala decree – they entered the second hour of silence; boredom began rearing its ugly head and Amy felt compelled to ask the obvious:

"What if he doesn't leave?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a look that told her they hadn't contemplated that scenario.

Great! They were in for the never ending stake out.

Her stomach rumbled.

And they hadn't brought provisions.

'_Another brilliantly laid __ Winchester plan!'_

It was late in the afternoon and they'd skipped lunch in order to cover the distance and reach Dallas in the shortest amount of time possible.

"He has to leave eventually. The guy's gotta eat." Sam offered.

As if on queue, a motorcycle with a large label reading Domino's Pizza drove by and stopped in front of the main gate.

"Yep, the guy's gotta eat, alright." Tediousness and lack of food fuelled the sarcasm in her voice.

Again, both Winchester's failed to acknowledge her and all three remained in silence.

Dean cocked an eyebrow when strange popping sounds came from behind him.

Checking the rear-view mirror he found her with her neck arched, head lolling from side to side on the backseat as she stared up at the ceiling.

After the fifth pop he snapped:

"Will you quit that?"

She jerked up and met his eyes in the mirror.

"I'm bored." She announced.

"Then sleep or something."

"I'm bored, not sleepy." She snorted.

Dean just shook his head and kept his eyes on the main gate, watching as the delivery guy exited and drove away.

"Is there anything to eat in this damn car?"

"Hey, watch it!" Dean warned.

"Oh, right!" Amy rolled her eyes. "Forgot about your pathological Impala-fixation."

Sam quickly intervened to diffuse the building tension between the two hotheads:

"I think there are some Skitters in here."

He popped open the glove-compartment and, sure enough, there was a wrinkled bright bag.

_ 'Crisis averted.'_

He knew Amy well enough to understand that a hungry Amy was a cranky Amy. Ad the way things were going with Dean lately, if he didn't get some food into her the two would end up at each other's throats in record time.

He picked it up and was frustrated to realise it was empty.

"Sorry." He said apologetically and Amy groaned.

Fifteen minutes and…

"Pop."

Dean whirled around:

"That's it! One more pop out of you and I'm kicking you out of the car!"

Sam watched as she boldly narrowed her eyes at his brother just before issuing a challenge…

"Pop!"

Dean gladly accepted it. In a flash, he stepped out, swung the back door open and reached inside.

"Dean!"

Sam scrambled out of his seat, coming around the vehicle to pull at his brother who was currently being kicked and swatted away by a fuming Amy.

"Dean!" He yelled, barely able to haul him away.

After a couple of desperate and confusing minutes, Sam managed to get him under control by pinning him against the side of the car while Amy remained safely seated in the backseat.

"Dean!"

"I'm going to kill her, Sammy." Dean sounded like he'd reached the end of his rope.

"Dude, get a hold of yourself." Sam commanded, testing the waters by loosening his grip on his brother's collar.

When Dean remained still he let go of him completely.

"Look, we're all tired and hungry. Maybe we should go back into town and get something to eat. The guy's obviously not going to leave tonight if he ordered pizza." Sam offered a rational way out.

But Dean wasn't in a rational state of mind.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, come on. I need food." Amy popped her head out and was immediately assailed by Dean's steely glare.

"Then go and get some. We're staying."

She stepped out of the car and jutting out her chin outstretched her hand to him.

"What?"

"Keys."

He let out a sound that was the perfect mesh between a chuckle and a cough.

"Come again?"

"Keys." She repeated and Sam cringed.

"You think I'm gonna let you drive my baby?!"

She nodded.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't let you drive this car if my life depended on it." He bit out.

"Then how am I supposed to-"

"You got legs. Walk." He snorted.

When Amy took a threatening step towards Dean, Sam immediately stepped in, literally using his body to keep them apart.

"O-ok, let's all just calm down." He stuttered.

"I'm calm!" Her whole demeanour completely contradicted the meaning of her words and Sam made a face.

"What? I'm the epitome of calm here."

"Yeah, right…" Dean's jeer earned him a glare from Amy.

Turning to face Dean Sam proposed.

"You drive into town to get us something to eat. Amy and I will stay here and make sure the guy doesn't leave."

It seemed like yet another pretty satisfactory arrangement, but Dean was definitely not in a cooperating mood.

"I'm not moving."

Sam's shoulders slumped in defeat. Why was he the one always stuck in the crossfire between these two?

"Fine. I'll go."

"What?!" Dean and Amy bellowed in unison.

Well, that was progress. At least they were agreeing on something, even if it meant ganging up against him.

"You guys don't leave me any choice. You're hungry and we all know how you get when you're sugar deprived." Facing Dean he continued: "You won't let her drive and you won't go yourself. I don't see another option here."

With that it was Sam's turn to claim the keys.

Grudgingly, Dean was about to surrender them when his eyes caught something over Sam's shoulder.

"Check it out!"

All three turned to see a black convertible exit the driveway.

"Oh, evil pays better and definitely has better wheels." Amy gawked at the car as it drove by, catching a glimpse of its sunglass-wearing driver.

"You know, I'm getting a little ticked off with you disrespecting my baby."

"It's a pre-historic sauna with no air-conditioning. It doesn't have feelings, Winchester."

Dean's eyes instantly widened in shock and he began hyperventilating in an attempt to contain his rage.

"Amy!" Sam turned his scolding to the small redhead.

The woman was gonna get burned if she continued playing with fire like that.

Under Sam's pleading gaze she relented:

"Ok, fine. I'm sorry. It's not pre-historic," Directing her attention to Sam she raised both eyebrows and emphasized: "but I'm sticking with the sauna bit."

Dean was about to retort when Sam interrupted:

"Let's just go, ok?"

There was a heavy pause.

"Dean."

He broke eye contact with Amy and allowed his body to relax.

"Let's go."

Both he and Sam stopped in their tracks when they noticed Amy following suit.

"Where do you think you're going?" Dean demanded.

"Um… in there?"

"No."

"Huh?"

"Have you ever broken into a place?"

She shook her head.

"Have you ever stolen anything?"

Well, there had been that one time when she was four, when she'd palmed a chocolate bar from a convenience store. Did that count?

_ 'Probably not.' _

So she shook her head once again.

"So you have absolutely no experience in this and you'd probably slow us down."

"But-"

"No buts. It's not negotiable."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"You get to play the part of the look-out." Dean offered with a condescending smirk.

She could have argued but she didn't have the strength to so she just shrugged and muttered:

"Whatever…"

They'd been surprised to find that the alarm hadn't been switched on and breaking into the house had been relatively easy.

They walked into the living room and scanned the large open space.

They were in, but the house was huge. Where were they supposed to start?

"I'll take the upstairs." Sam announced jogging up the staircase and leaving Dean to continue inspecting his surrounding.

From his experience he was pretty sure they wouldn't find anything in the living room or the kitchenette. So, after checking behind each of the large paintings scattered around various walls he walked into the adjacent room.

An office. Perfect place for a safe. Just as he was about to start though, his phone rang.

He sighed when he saw the familiar name flashing on the small screen.

"What?" He grumbled.

"He's coming back."

"Who?"

Amy rolled her eyes.

"Santa. Who do you think?"

"Are you sure?"

"No, I'm an idiot who can't recognise a car I've just seen drive by two minutes ago. It's him. Get out of there."

"Stall him."

"What?!" Amy exclaimed.

"Stall him." He repeated.

"How am I sup-"

Bip-bip-bip.

He'd hung up on her. She gasped.

"Bastard!"

Shoving the electronic device into the back pocket of her jeans she checked the snaking road again. Any second now the convertible would be coming around the bend.

Her mind raced as she crossed the street and the smooth purring of a powerful engine grew louder. Even though her brain had yet to come up with a feasible plan, her body was already jumping into action. She waved her arms in the air easily drawing the driver's attention.

She was torn. A part of her hoping that he would stop, the other, the rational one which frantically looked for a logical explanation for her being there, was terrified.

Her breath knotted in her throat when the car came to a screeching halt right next to her.

_ 'What now, Einstein?'_ Her mind asked her body.

"Oh, thank God!"

Ok…? Apparently her mouth had managed to improvise a plan. The only snag? It had failed to let her brain in on it.

Whatever it was it seemed to include, for some odd reason, a heavy Louisiana accent. At least that's what she realised when her mouth began a ludicrous rant:

"I sure am glad that someone finally showed up. I was beginning to think that I was going to have to walk back into town."

The man took off his glasses to reveal small brown eyes topped by a deep frown:

"I just drove by like five minutes ago."

'_Ops!'_

"Riiight,…a-and I heard but I… I was… um…"

'_Think, think, think!'_

"I had to pee!"

She mentally smacked herself just as the words came out. Putting on a plastic smile she elaborated:

"In the bushes."

Well, at least the embarrassing picture she'd painted would go nicely with the blush she was probably sporting right about now. She added a shy giggle for good measure and the man seemed to accept it; his eyes drifting down to her cleavage.

'_Ah! A girl can always count on the heterosexual male's moronic need to ogle any and all pair of breasts as a diversion.'_

"So…"

She cringed inwardly at the lazy drawl in his voice.

_ 'Is that supposed to be sexy?'_

"What happened?"

_ 'Yeah, what happened?'_ An annoying voice nagged in her head.

And off her mouth went…

"My idiot of a brother kicked me out of his car."

_ 'Huh?'_

Where was her mouth going with this? God only knew…

Dean's head whirled in the direction of the office door catching the voices coming from the living room. He easily recognised Amy's but his brows furrowed at the strange pronunciation.

"Anyway, he just went bananas. I truly don't understand why men are so sensitive when it comes to their cars."

Tentatively, Dean drew closer to the threshold and peeped through the crack left by the partially open door.

The two stood together in front of the couch. Mark was a beefy, relatively tall, brown-haired fellow. One of those David Beckham-wannabes who spend hours in the gym and wear black t-shirts two sizes too small that allow them to show off their overworked pecs and biceps.

"Yeah, it's a guy thing. I'd drive you back to town myself, but I'm expecting an important business call."

"Oh, it's ok." She pressed her sweaty palms together. "A cab will do fine."

"I'll be back in a second."

"Ok."

Her phoney smile crumbled the second he turned his back and walked into the kitchenette. From her spot she could easily keep tabs on him, so she began to nervously scan the room, clearly looking for any sign of the Winchesters.

Her eyes widened when she saw Dean.

_ 'What are you doing here?'_ She mouthed angrily. '_Where's Sam?'_

Dean pointed upwards, signalling the upstairs and she glanced at the staircase. Sure enough, there he was – glued against the wall, doing a pathetic job at keeping his breathing under control.

These two were going to give her a heart attack!

"The cab will be here in ten minutes."

Amy jolted in surprise.

"Here." He offered her a glass of wine.

"Oh, no thanks." She shook her head vehemently.

"Come on. It'll help you relax. You seem kinda nervous." His smirk caused the hairs in the back of her neck to stand out.

Reluctantly, she accepted the drink.

"Sit."

Again, she complied and he sat next to her, his thigh brushing up against hers, clearly invading her personal space and she fought the urge to hightail out of there.

"I can't believe your brother just dumped you in the middle of nowhere. What a jerk."

"Oh, Dean's some piece of work." She couldn't help throwing a murderous glance in the direction of the office as she continued: "One time he locked in the truck because he didn't want me smoking in his _baby_. That's what he calls it."

"Man, he sounds like a class A moron."

"Pretty much."

She could see the barely contained anger flaring in Dean's eyes.


	29. Chapter 29

** Chapter 29**

With the exception of Mark, who seemed oblivious to the intruders currently in his home and completely engrossed in his conversation with Amy, one question nagged all three remaining occupants of the room - _Where the hell is that cab?_

Fifteen minutes had dragged by and Amy was beginning to have a hard time keeping track of the stringed lies that had been popping out of her mouth left and right.

The accent had been explained with the fact that she was from New Orleans. God only knew why! Maybe her mouth thought that being a Southern Belle would add charm to the damsel in distress role she'd cast herself into.

So far, Amy Darlington – stupid name too! – was a twenty something year old college student, currently using up her summer holiday by tagging along with her big brother across country for his job interview in Dallas. Characterizing the older brother had probably been the easiest part of her con. All she did was leave out Sam and the whole hunting business, give a detailed description of Dean Winchester and voilà!

She was running out of ideas though. She had yet to decide if it was due to the fact that Mark had gradually managed to erase what little space there was left between them and was practically looming over her or the serious shortage of sugar supply to her brain. It was close to six pm and she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

_ 'God, cab drivers in Dallas are slow!'_

"How are you liking Dallas so far?"

"To be honest, I haven't had a chance to see anything beyond the hotel room. We just got into town recently and my brother isn't big on the whole sight-seeing thing."

She tried to ignore her restless stomach.

"We are going to have to rectify that." Mark leered at her and she forced a plastic smile, batting her eyes for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

If she kept that up any longer she was going to end up with cramping eyelids.

Was that possible? Well, medically speaking it probably was. They were muscles which were being seriously stressed in a relatively short amount of time so… yeah… it was-

_ 'What the hell?'_

Was she seriously thinking about eyelid cramps?

_ 'God, I really need to get some food in me.'_

Mark was back into boob-ogling mode and Amy seized the opportunity to check on Sam and Dean. Sure enough both were still stuck in their hiding places.

Dean was turning a strange shade of red. Why?

"Is everything ok?"

"Um…"

At Mark's words Amy quickly redirected her eyes to him but, alas, she wasn't fast enough and he was about to turn around to see what she was looking at.

Her heat jumped to her throat and her hand went on autopilot, settling on his thigh. It did the trick. She had Mark undivided attention.

She kept her gaze on her victim, even as Mark's arm greasily slid over the back of the couch to cocoon her small form.

"Yeah… I just spaced out for a second. I skipped lunch and…"

"That's great."

Huh? She was starving and that was a good thing? She failed to see how.

Some more boob gawking from Mark and she nervously glanced over his shoulder. If Dean's skin completion was strange before, now it was just down right unhealthy now, plus he was breathing kind of hard.

"So, what do you say?"

Man, she was losing her touch. She used to be so good at multitasking. She blamed hypoglycaemia for this. What was the question?

She turned to Sam and Dean for help. The first was nodding vehemently, the second… well, besides shaking his head like a mad man he looked like he was about to pounce on someone.

_ 'Thanks for the help, boys.'_

After a second of consideration she went with Sam on this one.

"Um… Sure."

What the hell had she just agreed to?

"Ok, then. Where are you staying?"

'_Wait? What?'_

"What?"

"I need to know where you're staying."

"Why?"

"So I can pick you up?"

_ 'Pick me up for what?'_

She couldn't actually tell him where she was staying so she just:

"I-I'm staying at the… um… Sheraton."

"Which one?"

"Huh?"

_ 'Focus, focus.'_

"Which one? There are like six or seven Sheratons in Dallas."

"Oh… The… Sheraton…"

She got nothing. Her mouth, which up until now, had so keenly provided her with the most elaborate and ridiculous escapes had just reached its limit, so she played the '_I'm dumb-as-a-doornail'_ card and, with a giggle, replied:

"I'm such a spaz. Can you believe that I don't really remember the name…"

She waited and relief washed over her when Mark gave her a condescending smile. He seemed to be pleased with the fact that Amy Darlington was an idiot.

"Maybe I can come over and we'll…"

We'll what? She still didn't know why he was picking her up? Oh, god! Had she just agreed to go out on a date with him?

"Ok then. It's a date."

She rolled her eyes mentally.

_ 'Apparently…'_

There was a honk and Amy jumped.

"That's probably my ride."

"So… How about eight?" Mark proposed with a sugary tone that made her want to crawl out of her skin.

"O-ok. I-I better go…"

"I'll walk you out."

"Ok."

The two stood up and Amy gave Sam and Dean one last glance before leaving.

Amy looked like a kid on Christmas morning as she furiously destroyed the wrapping around her cheeseburger. With a famished glaze over her eyes she was about to take a generous bite out of it when the door to her hotel room swung open and a fuming Dean stormed inside, closely followed by Sam. The loud bang of the wood impacting against the wall caused her to jolt off the bed and almost drop her precious food.

"Jesus, Winchester!" She cursed clinging to that cheeseburger as if to life itself.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Carrington?!"

With a murderous glare he invaded her personal space to tower over her.

"Ok, whatever sissy fit you're about to throw its going to have to wait." She once again made a move on her delayed lunch and she almost died when the burger was snatched out of her hands. "Hey! Give me that!"

The burger hit the garbage bin and Amy saw red.

The next few seconds were a blur and when she was able to focus again she was being held down by Sam, his hands firmly gripping her arms from behind while she thrashed against his hold on her.

If only she could get her hands around Dean's neck.

"Amy! Calm down!" She heard Sam bellow.

"I'm going to kill him!"

"Bring it on, sweetheart."

"Dean!"

Sam, ever the voice of reason.

"Let her go, Sammy."

Sam widened his eyes at his brother.

"Amy, please calm down."

She struggled for a few moments but eventually realised there was no use, so she ordered her body to relax and Sam loosened his grip on her, but not before strategically positioning himself between her and Dean.

Three erratic breathing patterns echoed in the silent room until Dean spoke:

"What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? I'm starving and you just threw my burger in the trash." Amy yelled.

Dean ignored her.

"What were you thinking agreeing to go out with that guy?"

"I didn't know what I was agreeing to, you smuck! I was too busy checking if you guys were ok to hear what he'd asked. I had to say something so I looked at you two. You were shaking your head no, he was nodding yes. Seeing as Sam is the brain, I went with the smart one."

Sam cringed as Dean's anger instantly shifted target.

"Wait! You told her to say yes?"

"Well, I didn't tell her-"

"What the _ hell_ were you thinking, Sam?!"

"Dean, that house is huge. If we want to find the Colt we have to make sure that Mark isn't at home. This was perfect."

Sam's reasoning didn't do anything to calm Dean, if anything, his roaring got louder:

"Perfect? Use her as a diversion?"

"Ok, maybe not perfect but-"

"She's not going." Dean said matter-of-factly.

Sam was about to protest.

"We are going to go back there tie the guy down and get him to give us what we came here for."

"What if he doesn't tell us where the Colt is?" Sam countered.

"Then we'll smack him around a bit." Dean replied like it was the most natural course of action.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Smack him around?!"

"Yeah."

"Dude, you can't just-"

"Like we haven't done it before."

"Yeah, as a last resort."

"You have a problem with smacking a guy around but letting her go out with a complete stranger is fine, that it?" Dean was beginning to get ticked off again.

"Yes. If we have a choice-"

"We're shaking down the guy. End of conversation." Dean maintained.

"Dean-"

Amy, who up until now had remained quiet, silently mourning the loss of her cheeseburger, stepped in:

"Look, no one's going to do any smacking or shaking. Sam's right. I'm going."

"Like hell you are!"

"Last time I checked I didn't need your permission for…" After a dramatic pause she completed her mordant sentence: "…well, anything!"

Dean took a threatening step towards her but Sam kept him at bay.

With arched backs and jutting stubborn chins, Dean and Amy looked like a couple of roosters about to fight.

"Your ass is staying in this hotel tonight."

"My ass is going wherever the hell I want it to go. You have no say where my ass can or cannot go. And I'm going."

Sam was becoming increasingly claustrophobic sandwiched between the sparing hotheads.

"You're staying, sweetheart."

"Call me that one more time Winchester and-"

"Enough!" Sam snapped.

And the two jerked back in surprise.

"Look, man, it's two against one. If she is willing to go, you can't do anything about it."

From behind Sam Amy stuck out her tongue at Dean and he glared at her.

"I saw that!"

Amy looked questioningly at Sam. That was impressive.

There was a moment of pause.

"Ok, then. That being settled, if you guys don't mind I have to get ready for my date."

Picking up her bag she strolled into the bathroom and Sam was left to handle his brother's lethal glower.

"Dude…" He began trying to cool things down, but Dean didn't give him a chance.

"If anything happens to her, Sammy…"

Sam gulped.

"Nothing's going to happen."

How long was she going to stay in there? And how long would it take for Dean to dig a circle into the floor from all his pacing? Those were the two questions in Sam's mind as he sat on the bed.

His eyes followed his brother when he suddenly changed his route to walk over to the bathroom door and bagged on it.

"Hey, Cinderella? You done in there?"

"Hold your horses!" Amy barked from the other side and Dean returned to the middle of the room.

"Whoa!"

A clicking sound coupled with Sam's exclamation caused him to turn on his heels.

Amy was clumsily hopping out of the bathroom, one hand on the threshold, for balance, the other trying to help get her foot into a seven-inch stiletto pump. She wore her hair down; the red loops vibrant against the black of her simple wrap dress and the pale tone of her skin exposed by the plunging neckline.

"Man, these things suck!" She grumbled when she managed to sink her foot into the shoe.

She wobbled for a bit before straightening up.

"So… How do I look?" She questioned, puffing her hair away from her face.

There was no reply. Both boys were stuck on the newly acquired fact that Amy had breasts. Till now they'd only seen her in jeans and t-shirts.

"Guys! I'm up here." She groused slightly annoyed.

What was it with guys and breasts anyway?

A flushed Sam snapped his attention to her face and stammered:

"Y-you look great!"

"Thanks." She smiled.

Dean used the extra-time to slap himself out of his momentary stupor and mutter:

"Ok, let's go."

He was already halfway out the door when he heard Amy snort as she trailed after him:

"Boy, you really know how to make a girl feel special."

_ 'Eyes on the road, eyes on the road.'_ Was the self imposed mantra in Dean's head just to keep his gaze from wandering to the rear-view mirror, but the fact that she had added a little more perfume than usual wasn't helping matters.

After the last curve he brought the Impala to a complete stop on the side of the road, behind the same shrubbery he'd parked a few hours before.

"We'll wait here until you guys leave." Sam announced when Dean remained silent.

He hadn't said a word since they'd left the hotel.

"Ok, wish me luck."

With a heavy sigh she stepped out and started walking the rest of the way.

Sam glanced at his brother.

"She's going to be fine." He tried to reassure him.

There was no reply so Sam watched Amy as she waited at the gate.

The fact that she was a beautiful woman had never gone unnoticed by him; he'd simply never fully registered it. After tonight thought, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to forget any time soon.

Out of nowhere a hand smacked him over the back of his head.

"Hey!" He complained looking at his attacker.

"You're drooling." Dean actually growled.

"Can you blame me? I mean, look at her!" Sam said trying to get a little sympathy from his brother, but Dean was fresh out of it and warned:

"Stop eyeballing her."

"Ok, ok…" Sam raised his hands in a sign of surrender.

Noticing that Dean had suddenly gone rigid he checked the gate to see Mark escort Amy inside.

"So… where are we going?" Amy asked ambling around the living room.

She frowned when she looked at the dining table and realised it was set for two.

Mark emerged from the kitchenette carrying two glasses of what looked like red wine.

"Welcome to the best restaurant in Dallas." He leered at her as he handed her the drink.

_ 'Oh crap!'_


	30. Chapter 30

** Chapter 30**

"Smells good." Amy said toying with her glass.

They were thirty minutes into the _date_; the first ten having been nerve-wracking, with her wondering if the Winchesters were about to waltz into the house with her and Mark still in it.

Thankfully, they seemed to be smart enough to notice the convertible parked in the driveway.

So, around minute eleven, she began to relax and tune into Mark's less than stimulating ramblings. Boy, the guy was boring. It was a good thing that she had her mind occupied with a million other things; otherwise she was afraid she might fall asleep.

"I hope you like baby back ribs."

_ 'Oh, honey, right about know I could eat the whole pig.'_ Was Amy's first thought, but since that would probably ruin the whole air-head, damsel in distress persona she'd been building, she decided it was best to just nod and give him a coy smile.

She was famished, stressed out and to top that she had to endure Mark's leers. She needed a smoke.

Fumbling with her purse she fished out her pack but halted when she saw the disgusted look on Mark's face.

_'It figures fitness freak would be a fanatical smoke Nazi.'_

"I'll just go outside." She offered standing up.

"Oh, no, you can smoke in here." He wasn't very convincing.

"It's ok. I need the fresh air anyway."

Plus it was the perfect opportunity to speak to Sam and Dean and figure out what their next move would be.

"You go check on our dinner. I'll be right back."

She didn't even give him a chance to object, not that she thought he would.

Stepping out into the darkness she lit her cigarette and took a deep, satisfied puff.

A hand on her arm caused her to jolt and almost drop the cigarette.

"Jesus, Sam."

"Sorry." He apologized.

Dean, never one for pleasantries, brashly cut to the chase:

"What are you doing in there?!"

She didn't like his tone.

"Having wild monkey sex."

Dean and Sam's eyes instantly bugged out simultaneously and she let out a sigh.

"Turns out the best restaurant in Dallas is chez Mark." She replied with a hint of disdain.

"Huh?"

Dean's brain was still digesting the mental picture provided by her previous quip.

"He's cooking me dinner." She explained clearly annoyed.

She hadn't forgotten Dean was the culprit for her current food crisis.

"You're not leaving?" Sam questioned alarmed and she shook her head. "Great! What now?"

"It's clobberin' time." Dean announced matter-of-factly and was about to storm into the house, but Amy hastily stepped in his path.

"Whoa, whoa! Hold on there Thing!"

"I'm sorry if this doesn't sit well with your dating arrangements, but we need that Colt." Dean sneered, giving her a condescending tilt of his head.

She gave him one of her own as she replied with equal venom:

"Is that the only way you know how to solve things?"

"It's effective."

"Dean, she's right."

"Dude, why are you always siding with her?!" He whined.

"I'm not siding with her; I just don't think that clobbering this guy is a good idea."

"We're wasting time dancing around this. Let's just go in there and-"

"Oh-oh! Let me guess? Clobber the guy?" Amy's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Funny." So did Dean's.

"I know. I'm a hoot." She pursed her lips for a tight smile.

"Well, Miss Hoot, what's your plan?"

Plan?

"Um…"

"You don't have one, do you? What about you Sammy? Any bright ideas?" Dean feigned surprise: "Nothing? Really?"

"How about I let you guys inside and you search the upstairs. I'll find a way to get him out of the house after dinner. How's that?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. Seeing there was no other strategy on the table, the older hunter shrugged and accepted the proposition. At least this way he'd be able to keep an eye on her.

They stood there in silence until Amy felt two pairs of eyes burning a whole into her when she took a drag from her cigarette.

"What?" She piped up innocently and both poignantly glanced at the burning tobacco. "Oh, come on… I can't eat and now you won't let me finish a smoke."

"We're kind of in a hurry here, Amy." Sam pointed out.

"You guys are evil." She grumbled, dropping the cigarette and grudgingly stomped it out. "Just wait here."

Hesitantly, she pushed the door open. Mark was nowhere in sight but she could hear him fussing around in the kitchenette. The coast was clear and all three slipped inside. Amy walked into the living room while the boys scurried towards the staircase.

"That was fast." Mark bellowed.

"Yeah, I'm trying to quit."

_ 'Yeah, right.'_ She mentally snorted.

"Good for you."

She forced out a smile as he strolled into the room.

"Dean, we're supposed to be looking for the Colt." Sam hissed when he exited a room to find his brother crouching at the top of the stairs, clearly more interested in what was going around on the ground floor.

"I'm looking." Even as he said this he strained his neck to catch a glimpse of Amy and Mark sitting on the couch.

"You're spying on Amy." Sam accused coming to stand behind him.

Dean ignored him and kept a trained eye on the couple, unconsciously fisting his hands at the sight of Mark brushing Amy's hair away from her face.

"Dean…"

"What?" Dean snapped a little too loudly.

Mark froze.

"What was that?" With a frown he turned towards the stairs and Sam yanked Dean out of the way in a nick of time.

"I didn't hear anything." Amy quickly stepped in nervously.

Mark was still looking in the direction of the noise. When he made a move to stand she grabbed his arm.

"Where're you going?"

"I just wanna check…"

He trailed off when her fingers brushed against his chin and redirected his attention to her face.

"But it was just getting… interesting." She silently congratulated herself for her skilled purring under the pressure and the intense urge to gag, especially when her actions seemed to have the desired effect.

That purr earned her Mark's undivided attention and he was currently leaning in.

_ 'Shit.'_

Her mind raced, Dean's knuckled whitened and Sam braced himself. This wasn't going to end well.

"Um… sh-shouldn't you check on the food." She stammered slanting back. "We don't want those baby ribs burning."

"Don't worry your little head." Mark responded by inclining further and, by now, Amy was practically laying on her back with him draped on top of her.

"Where're you going?!" Sam whispered gripping his brother's arm when he prepared to rush down the stairs.

"Let go of me, Sammy." Dean's tenor sent a chill down Sam's spine.

"Just hold on a second."

"I'm done waiting." He growled yanking himself free.

"A-are you sure?" Her hand was on his chest, scarcely keeping him at bay.

He was an eager little fellow, wasn't he?

"I think I smell something burning."

"Oh, something's burning alright…" He hummed.

_ 'You have GOT to be kidding?!'_

Did he actually think that line was going to close the deal? Apparently so, because he was currently closing the gap between their mouths to proudly claim his prize for his clever pun.

With no alternative, Amy gave in. Oh, the Winchester boys owed her.

_ 'Big time!'_

Her lids unenthusiastically fluttered closed and waited, but instead of a kiss, a rush of cold air closely followed by a yelp caused her to snap her eyes open just in time to see Dean's fist connecting with Mark's shocked face.

The thief was sent flying halfway across the room, crashing onto the hardwood floor with a ear-splitting bang. Her gobsmacked gawk went back and forth between the unconscious body and a fuming, panting Dean.

He looked pissed!

"Wh-what?"

Still in shock, she was unable form a coherent sentence for quite a while.

"Christ, Dean!" Sam gasped.

The older Winchester was still catching his breath and staring daggers at the woman on the couch.

"What the hell did you do that for, Winchester?" She finally demanded.

Without a word Dean stomped out of the living room and into the office. Sam rushed after him while Amy quickly knelt down next to Mark, inspecting the extent of the damage Dean had caused.

"You knocked him out cold!" She yelled over her shoulder.

"Good! Now we can get that gun and get the hell out of here." He was a madman scouring the space and making a monumental mess in the process.

"Dean…"

He came to a screeching halt and pinned Sam with a glacial glower.

"Just keep searching."

Sam knew that look and also knew that if he wanted to keep his bones intact he should do what he was told.

In the meantime, Amy busied herself tending to Mark. He had a pulse and was breathing normally even though the side of his face was already beginning to swell.

After five minutes and a busted safe Dean trudged his way back into the living room holding the Colt in his hand.

"Got it. Let's go."

But Amy didn't move.

"Did you hear me?"

"We can't leave him like this." She protested.

What would typically degenerate into a ten minute sparing contest was cut short by Dean's next move. With one surprisingly swift and seemingly effortless move he had her flung over his shoulder and was out the door.

"Winchester! Put me down! I swear to GOD I'm going to kill you if you don't put me down!" She shrieked and roared, punched and kicked, but all her wrestling was useless as he carried her to the car with Sam mutely and shyly trailing behind him.

She proceeded with her struggling even when he shoved her into the Impala, slamming the door shut. By the time she went for the handle he was already in the driver's seat and hauled her back into a sitting position.

He didn't have to voice out a word; his eyes sending her an unequivocal warning.

She swallowed dryly. She'd been on the receiving end of more than a few glares coming from Dean Winchester and she'd easily dismissed them. This one though she didn't dare defy, so instead she sat back and grouchily crossed her arms over her chest.

When they reached the hotel, Sam stepped out of the car and, in accordance with Dean's almost monosyllabic command, went in to get their things.

Amy hadn't moved; her eyes fixed on Dean's face through the rear-view mirror.

After a while, she spoke up:

"You're psychotic!"

He remained still.

"You could have killed him, you know?"

Nothing. Not a word from Dean and she proceeded with her scolding:

"I didn't need your help. I was handling the situation just fine."

"It looked to me like he was the one doing all the handling." His voice was low and charged.

"So what if I had to make out with him to keep him distracted. It's not like a few kisses ever killed anyone. I was- Where are you going? Winchester!"

He was out of the car and the loud pang of the door closing caused her to jolt.

She watched him pace around, illuminated by the headlights. Pondering her next move for a second and then she too abandoned the Impala.

Realising he was intent on ignoring her, she stubbornly stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop and acknowledge her presence.

"Not now, Carrington." He warned towering over her.

"You can't just go around punching people into unconsciousness and then leave them. What if he's seriously injured?" She demanded.

"He's fine."

"How do you know?"

"Look, I'm sorry I ruined your chances of getting laid, but I'm sure you'll be able to find someone in the next town willing to scratch your itch."

Amy was never one for violence. She didn't even remember if she'd ever thrown a punch in her life, but her reaction to his harsh statement was guttural and her fist was flying before she had a chance to think.

Her lack of familiarity with the fine art of brawling and Dean's ample experience in that field of expertise worked in his favour and he easily grasped her hand before it connected with his jaw.

"Let go."

He didn't, so she ineptly swung her left fist and ended up stumbling into his chest with both hands trapped in his, their faces separated by a thin layer of cold evening air. The tension between the two was palpable, gut-wrenching and Amy's mind screamed at her, begged her to get the hell out of there, but her body seemed to have other plans.

Ever the control freak, she tried talking her way out of the sticky situation.

"You should seriously…"

His gaze dropped to her mouth and she gulped before unsteadily pushing out the rest of her sentence:

"…consider taking some anger-management classes."

He didn't react, just kept staring at her with large eyes and an uneven breathing pattern.

"One day that temper of yours is going to get you into trouble."

_ 'Say something, damn it!'_ She mentally shouted at him.

When her psychic ability proved fruitless she continued her desperate effort to lighten the mood.

"If it hasn't already. Not everyone goes down that easily. Someday you're gone pick a fight with the wrong guy and-"

_ 'Shit, I'm babbling!'_

"-and then-"

She'd had enough. He wasn't even trying to help. He just stood there, holding her hands captive, panting into her face, staring at her mouth like…

"What?!" She snapped unhinged.

And then he did something. He tilted forward and every single fibber of her body froze except, what else, her mouth.

"What're-you-doing?" It came out as a single, incomprehensible string of words.

The woman was unbelievable. She just couldn't shut up.

"Do you ever stop talking?"

Her reply was automatic.

"Why'd you do it?"

_ 'Nope. Can't shut up.'_

With an aggravated gasp he released her and stepped back. Pressing the bridge of his nose – he was beginning to get a headache - he indulged her apparently overwhelming need to speak:

"Do what?"

"Why'd you hit Mark?"

He was in her face as he snapped:

"Why do you think?"

The sound of a throat being cleared robed her of the opportunity to respond.

"Um… Guys."

The two turned to find a luggage toting Sam. After an awkward moment all three filled mutely into the car.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

**Author's note: **Whoa! One hundred reviews! ;) Thanks you guys! I'm glad you managed to cope with so much UST. I really have a tendency to stretch that UST to the limit, most readers can't take it, so once again thanks for sticking to it. ;)

And now for the chapter…

Sam smiled awkwardly when he noticed the waitress' startled expression.

The old woman gawked bluntly at Amy as smoothly polished off her second order of chilly fries. This wouldn't be surprising if the young redhead hadn't previously wolfed down two cheeseburgers and a large serving of onion rings.

"Are you ok, honey?" She asked sending the two men sitting in the same booth with her a suspicious glance.

What had these boys done to her? The poor thing was famished.

"She's fine." Dean barked and the waitress seemed to ponder whether or not to confront him.

She opted not to and reluctantly turned her attention to the other patrons of the dinner, but not without throwing the older Winchester a disapproving scowl.

Dean shook his head and glared at Amy, who was currently licking off her finger. He swallowed dryly at the sight, but refused to acknowledge the warmth that instantly sprung up his gut.

"Do you mind?" He snorted.

She looked up unphased by his rudeness.

"People are going to think we're starving you."

"People would be correct!" She retorted laying back in her seat.

He ignored her jab.

"Are you done?"

It was a rhetorical question and Dean was already half-standing when she reached for the menu.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me? You can't possibly be hungry!"

"I want desert!"

'_Here they go again…'_ Sam thought, but decided it was in his best interest not to get in the middle.

They were in a public place, so murdering each other was probably not an option.

'_Here's hoping.'_

His eyes drifted to the small television set near the bar and listened, with little interest, to the over-bleached anchor woman as she introduced the next segment – something about a fire in the outskirts of Dallas. He could scarcely make out what she was saying over the dynamic duo's bickering.

But the noise of Amy and Dean exchanging less than courteous quips faded into the background when he recognized the winding road that popped up on the screen.

"Oh my god!" He gasped. "Um… guys…?"

"I'm not Jabba, the Hutt!" Amy reacted to his offence.

"You're gonna end up looking like him if you keep eating like that!"

"And what if I do? I fail to see how that is any of your business." She narrowed her eyes at him daringly leaning over the table.

He mirrored her actions to respond:

"I'm not sure if the car's gonna be able to drag your fat ass."

"That's cause it's a shitty car!"

Dean pounced:

"Oh, you did not just-"

"Guys!" Sam yelled, finally managing to draw their attention and redirected it to the television.

It couldn't be. Could it?

"Jesus, the ribs!" Amy suddenly remembered.

They'd left the house in such a hurry they'd forgotten to check if everything was turned off in the kitchen.

A part of her hoped against all hope that this was some sort of bizarre coincidence. The residence the reporter spoke of was probably just some other random house, located in the area surrounding Dallas. One which just happened to have…

'…_a similar driveway…'_ Her mind annoyingly pointed out. _'…and the exact same convertible…and'_

Her mouth went dry and she took a hearty swig of her soda just as the house or at least what was left of it, came into view. All of a sudden, she couldn't breathe. Her face became sweaty and flushed; a powerful sting in her chest caused her to double over as she began to cough uncontrollably.

She wheezed, shrieked, kicked but still couldn't get the much needed oxygen into her desperate lungs. Her vision started to blur.

She was faintly aware of someone padding her on the back, shaking her, callous hands pawing away at her face and her name being shouted by a hoarse, deep voice.

"Amy!"

His pulse was pounding in his ears. His shaky hands grasped at her face and forced her to look up. She bore an unwholesome shade of blue and his heart jumped to his throat.

Gradually, her coughing fit subsided, her vision began to clear and bloodshot eyes met large green ones… Dean's.

He was squatting at the side of the booth, in front of her, and an equally concerned Sam stood next to him.

"Come on…" Dean begged her. "Just breathe."

She took in a generous gulp of air before jeering:

"Easy…" gasp "For you…" cough "…to say."

As her naturally pale colour returned to her cheeks, Dean's panic progressively dissipated into the emotion that she seemed to more often than not evoke in him – aggravation.

"You're choking to death and still manage to make with the funnies. You're unbelievable."

She took a few extra breaths and then added:

"Thank you." Cough. "Now, can I have my face back?"

He immediately pulled his hands away, letting them hover in the air for a couple of seconds in mock surrender.

"Sure you're ok?" He questioned with a hint of uncertainty.

"I'm-"

Her vehement reply was crushed by another round of coughs, when she looked up to finish her sentence she found a soda drenched and obviously pissed Dean.

"Oops!" She said meekly.

Running a disgusted hand over his face and shirt he was about to issue a patronizing response but their waitress interrupted:

"Oh, sweetheart, are you ok?"

All three suddenly realised every single pair of eyes in the dinner was on them.

"I-I'm fine… thank you." Amy replied timidly with rosy cheeks.

Gradually, heads turned back to their respective plates and the three were able to check the television screen again.

Dean was still crouching next to her and this didn't go by unnoticed by her wired body.

"Do you think Mark's ok?"

For some reason, Amy's concern irked Dean, but he remained quiet.

Relief washed over all three when the reporter announced:

'_Fortunately, the home owner was able to escape this tragedy unharmed. Mr. Gillian was unavailable to comment."_

"Thank God!" Amy exclaimed.

"OK then." Dean stood up, straightened his wet clothes, casually waved his hand in the air and asked for the check.

His relaxed demeanour shocked Amy.

"OK?! We burned the guy's house down and you're reaction is –check, please?"

Dean remained unphased as he looked down at her.

"We burned a house down and almost made shish kabob out of the guy!" She hissed.

"Didn't you hear? He's fine. Which means we have to get the hell out of Dodge before he comes looking for the-"

Amy's phone rang.

Her breath caught in her sore throat when she saw the name flashing on the small screen and unwittingly whispered:

"Michael."

Dean's attention peeked. Who was Michael? Where had he hear- The fancy Doctor back at Amy's! Why was he calling her? And why was she getting up? Where was she going? Couldn't she just talk to him in front of them? Why-?

"Here you go, sir."

"Huh?"

Dean looked at the waitress and then at the small ticket she'd placed in front of him.

Oh, right.

He fished out a couple of notes, dropped them on the table and quickly followed Amy out of the dinner.

The two brothers leaned against the side of the Impala watching from a distance as Amy walked around in circles, her cell phone glued to her ear.

Tired of waiting, Dean pushed himself off the car and was about to stalk over to Amy, but Sam gripped his arm.

"Just let her finish."

"We've been waiting for half an hour. I'm done waiting." Dean grunted.

"It's been ten minutes and the girl's allowed to get one phone call." Sam pointed out.

"Not when we've got shish kabob Bob on our tail."

Sam chuckled.

"What?!" Dean demanded crossly.

"You're jealous."

"I'm what?!"

"You heard me. You're jealous. She and Michael have a history together and-"

Dean tried pathetically to sound blasé and indifferent.

"Puff! Like I care if she and this guy have a history. They could get married and have a bunch of snotty kids for all I care. I could- What do you mean history?"

Did Sam know something? He looked like he knew something… and apparently he wasn't sharing.

"Not that I care."

"Of course not." Sam smirked.

'_Damn it, Sammy! Don't make me beg.'_

The taller man just continued to smugly stare at him, hands firmly planted into the front pockets of his jeans.

"D-did she tell you something? Were they like… you know?"

Sam was going to pay for making him grovel like this.

"Are they together or something?"

"If you wanna know you're going to have to ask her."

"I don't." Dean shrugged unconvincingly and glanced at Amy.

She was doing that think with her hair she did when she was nervous or anxious. Michael made her nervous. Why?

"I don't." He repeated forcing his gaze away from her. "I was just making small talk."

"Yeah, cause you're real big on small talk." Sam jibed.

"Shut up, Sammy." Dean grumbled as Amy finally got off the phone and met up with them. "Finally!"

Amy disregarded him and announced:

"I have to go to Charleston."

"What? Why?" Dean questioned.

"I just do. I'll catch a bus and meet you guys at Bobby's in a few days."

"You're not going anywhere." Dean stated matter-of-factly.

"Do you really wanna do this?"

"Do what?"

"You say no. I say yes. You threaten to shove me into the trunk and I end up doing whatever the hell I feel like." Amy summarized.

"I guess we can just skip to the shoving you into the trunk part. How's that?"

Amy glared daggers at him for a moment and Sam was ready to jump in at any moment. Apparently it wasn't necessary because suddenly her body relaxed. The boys watched as she opened the back door of the Impala and settle into the backseat.

"I thought we were in a hurry." She cocked an eyebrow at the two.

Shaking himself out of his stupor Sam nodded ineptly.

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

Sam heard his brother whisper over the top of the car as the two prepared to enter:

"She's up to something."

Sam didn't say a word and simply took his place in the front seat while Dean turned the key in the ignition and the engine revved up.

"Do you mind doing that outside, man? I'm trying to get some sleep here."

Dean looked up from the Colt, which he was cleaning for the forth time since they'd checked into the motel, to meet Sam's drowsy but clearly displeased glare.

"Just making sure it doesn't jam." He replied with a shrug.

"Dude, trust me, it's clean! Just go to bed already." Sam pointed out, turning his back to Dean and the light coming from his nightstand.

Easy for him to say. He didn't have a certain scene playing over and over again in his head. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of her, winded and wide-eyed, inches away from him, would pop into his brain; a powerful spam overpowering his gut.

Up until now, he'd successfully managed to ignore the heated argument they'd had earlier just after leaving Mark's place. Up until now he'd been to busy stuffing his face it, saving Amy from choking and learning that he could add arsonist to his list of felonies. But now, in the quiet silence of night, when he was expected to rest the flashes of her flooded his mind.

He needed to wear himself down.

"Dean, did you hear what I said?" Sam's grumpy whine jolted him back to reality.

"Fine." Dean snarled, getting up and stomping his way out of the room and onto the long porch.

Stuffing the revolver into the back of his pants he exhaled heavily, running his hand through his hair. Out of their own accord, his eyes settled on her door.

She was haunting him!

He paced around. No, he didn't want to go in there and of course he wasn't making up excuses to do so either.

'_Maybe I should check to see if she got the pentagram right…' _

That was a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Not an excuse at all. That's what he told himself as he neared the threshold. But the rational part of him forced him to stop and he stepped back.

This was insane. He was nervously pacing around in from of Amy Carrington's door.

'_Fuck!'_

He was so whipped.

'_I'm not!'_

'_Right, that's why you have your ear glued to her door!'_ A nagging voice mocked him in his mind.

He was about to deny that too but, unfortunately, when he looked around he realised that…

'_I am so fucked!'_

Fifteen minutes of standing in front of her room like a love sick puppy and Dean Winchester had had enough. He didn't really know what he was going to say, but he had to do something. He was becoming pathetic. And he didn't do pathetic.

Knocking at the door he waited. When after the third try he did get a reply he turned the knob. To his surprise it was unlocked and he easily slipped into the dark room. After a second he was able to find the light switch and the artificial glow filled the space.

"Oh, shit!" He half-panted, half-roar.

Sam mumbled something under his breath when suddenly harsh light forced him to pry his eyes open.

"Get up, Sammy!"

The younger Winchester rubbed his lids and turned just in time to catch the jeans being hurled his way.

"What happened?"

"She's gone."

"Who? Amy?"

"No, the virgin Mary. Yeah, Amy."

"She wasn't in her room?"

"No." Dean was on autopilot, violently shoving his belongings into his bag.

"Maybe she just went to get a soda or something."

"All her things are gone too."

"Oh!" Sam was still half asleep, but the memory of the spitfire redhead readily agreeing to stay with them popped into his slumber-clouded mind. "She's going to Charleston, isn't she?"

"Yep. And when I find her… Oh! There's gonna be some major ass kicking."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

"Shit!" Amy cursed under her breath as she exited the diner and recognized the black Impala in the parking lot.

Hastily, she scanned the surrounding area for its owner. Failing to spot him she found herself in a bind.

The bus driver had come into the restaurant and announced that the vehicle was fixed, so most of the passengers had filed out and were currently returning to their respective places. On one hand she needed to get her ass on that bus but, on the other, she feared that a certain pesky duo would see her and drag her to South Dakota.

The driver was already in his seat as were all the passengers. The sound of the powerful engine revving up made her mind up for her. Just as she prepared to rush across the patch of dusty ground, though, a hand gripped her arm.

"Shit!" She repeated.

The powerful chill that ran down her spine at the seemingly basic contact left little room for doubt as to whom that hand belonged to. There was only one person who had that effect on her.

Grudgingly, she turned around and, sure enough…

"Where do you think you're going?" Dean questioned with a raised eyebrow.

She quickly recovered from the shock of seeing him and assumed her usual snotty attitude towards him:

"Charleston. Shouldn't you be in South Dakota by now?"

"Yeah, except I had to drive a hundred miles off course to get you're stubborn butt back."

"I'm going to Charleston." She stated firmly.

"You think?"

"I know." She set her mouth in a straight line to emphasize her resolve and the two engaged in a staring contest.

After twenty seconds of obstinate and pointless glaring Amy demanded:

"Where's Sammy?"

"Why? You think he's gonna let you go to Charleston?" Dean scoffed.

"I don't need yours or Sammy's permission to go anywhere." She snorted back.

He was still holding her by the arm and the physical contact was making it very hard to focus, so she callously pulled away from his touch.

That was better. She could think more clearly and now she was free to get back on that bus.

'_Wait, where did the bus go?'_

She stopped in her tracks when she realised it was gone.

"Great! You made me miss the bus." She dropped her arms at her sides in capitulation.

When she turned on her heels, she felt the urge to smother Dean and his mocking expression.

"You can wipe that smug smile off your face, Dimple boy, cause you're driving me to the next bus stop." She announced stomping her way towards the Impala.

"I'm not driving you anywhere, except to Bobby's."

At that Amy immediately made a U-turn.

"Fine. I'll hitchhike."

Spotting a truck driver as he headed for his ride, she made a move to intercept him.

"Sir?"

The hefty, bearded man turned, sporting a deep scowl. It instantly melted into a delighted leer when he saw Amy. His eyes roamed appreciatively over the skirt wearing female. She was a cute little thing, wasn't she?

"Yes, Miss?"

"Hi!" She pushed down the acid that crawled to the back of her throat at the lustful look he gave her and, for a moment, she wondered if this was such a great idea.

The guy was gaping at her like a starved man faced at a scrumptious snack.

Still, she used her best sugary tone when she proposed:

"Sorry to bother you, I was wondering if you-"

"What are you doing?"

The trucker glowered at the intruding male. Dean ignored him, putting his body between Amy and the cap wearing man.

"I'm getting a ride." She hissed and batted her eyes over Dean's shoulder to continue sweetly: "I mean, if you don't mind giving me a ride."

"Course not, Miss…?"

"Amy." She forced on a saccharine smile and Dean bawled his fists at the sight of the man.

He was drooling.

"Look pal, she's not going with you." He stated matter-of-factly.

"And who the hell are you?" He jutted his chin and inflated his brawny chest at Dean.

"I'm the guy that's gonna kick your ass if you don't turn around and leave."

He took a threatening step towards the man. Next to the trucker, Dean looked minimal.

Sensing the impending confrontation and that the best outcome of it would be a severely dented Dean, Amy intervened:

"Ok, let-let's just calm down here."

Her hand was on Dean's chest as she weaselled her way between the two males.

If Dean looked minimal next to Cap-wearing-guy, Amy was just plain puny.

"You're lucky the little lady's here or you'd be dog food right now." The trucker snarled.

"Been there, done that." Dean replied automatically, recalling his recent encounter with the Hellhounds.

Oblivious to the reasoning behind the stranger's cryptic response, the trucker dismissively returned his attention to the petite redhead and Amy laughed nervously:

"Never mind him. He was dropped on his head when he was little." She threw a fleeting glance at Dean to add: "Repeatedly." Then smiled up at the trucker and finished: "Hence the suicidal tendencies and the odd shaped head."

Dean took offence to that; the giant just chuckled, . He liked her.

"So, do you still need a ride?"

"Are you deaf, Gumpy? She's not going anywhere with you!"

The tension peeked and Amy's free hand was on Gumpy's chest.

"What are you doing?!" Amy hissed at Dean before hurriedly sending a nervously toothy grin up in the trucker's direction. "Thanks, but I think I'll just stay with him. He clearly needs help."

"Yeah…" Gumpy snarled. "It's a shame though..." His eyes roamed lasciviously over Amy's form and she could feel Dean's body tensing under her palm so she gently, but surely, began pushing him away while the trucker continued: "You and me, it would make for one hell of a ride."

The acid that had been bubbling in the back of her throat almost slipped into her mouth at the image that popped into her head. She swallowed dryly and let out a panicky giggle.

"Yeah… too bad..." She was still trying to shove Dean away but he didn't budge.

He just stood there, feet firmly planted on the ground glaring daggers up at Gumpy.

"So, we'll just…"

Another forceful push with little effect. Before she had a chance to try again Dean's fist came out of nowhere to connect with the trucker's bearded chin.

And then… all hell broke loose.

"You're an idiot, you know that?"

It was a rhetorical question on Amy's part as she dragged him to the Impala.

The brawl had lasted for about two minutes before the diner's patrons intervened and managed to pull the two men apart. When the dust settled Dean was sporting a split lip and a nasty cut over his right cheekbone.

Much to Amy's surprise, Gumpy hadn't come out unharmed either. She didn't want to admit it, but she was impressed.

She gruffly pushed Dean, forcing him to lean on the hood of the car as she rummaged through her purse. After a quick search all she found were a few cleansing wipes. God only knew why she carried those around. Except for the previous night, she seldom had a chance to wear make up.

"Wait, I think I have some bandages in my-Oh, no! My bag!"

Dean gave her a confused frown.

"It's on the bus."

She failed to get a reaction out of the hunter.

"The one that _you_ made me miss." She pointed out accusingly. "Great! Now I'm late _and_ I lost my bag, perfect!"

But Dean remained unaltered and she let out a frustrated sigh.

"I guess these will have to do."

Sliding one of the wipes out of the container, she used it to swab away the blood that was trickling down the side of his cheek.

"Hey!" He protested, jerking away.

"Oh, just stand still. You've been through a lot worse."

"Well, that stings!"

He proceeded to hiss and mewl as she continued to clean him.

"What's in those things anyway?"

"I dunno." She shrugged, focused on the task at hand.

He used the rare opportunity to scrutinize her features. Man, she was gorgeous…

'_Shit_. _Focus_!'

"You don't know? And you're using it on my face? What kind of doctor are you?!"

"You're so right." She began and her voice dripped with sarcasm. "I really should use an antiseptic and some bandages on that. Oh, and it just so happens that I have some… where, you ask? In my bag! On my bus! So just zip it and take it like a grown man."

"Ouch!" He exclaimed when, in her anger, she applied a little too much pressure on his lip wound.

"Just keep still, will you?"

"You really suck at this, you know?"

"Yeah, I'm a doctor, not a nurse." She replied. "There! Done. Now let's go get my bag before someone steals it."

She was pissed. No! She was royally pissed!

With some effort, they'd successfully located the bus but when they'd searched it there was no sign of her bag. Nothing, nada, zilch!

So now here she was, driving halfway across Louisiana in the middle of the night, with only one change of clothes, which were already starting to smell, and her purse. Thankfully, she still had all of her credit cards and documents with her.

With her arms firmly crossed over her chest she looked straight ahead. They'd been on the road now for five long, torturously silent hours, with only three cigarette stops, and both her mind and her buttocks were starting to complain.

Out of the corner of her eyes she kept track of Dean, who seemed to be completely at ease, both with the stillness and the never-ending drive.

They'd passed a motel and Amy had hoped he'd stop for the night. But no, he just kept going. When she'd questioned him as to why, he'd muttered something about it being a stink-hole and that there was another, better one a few miles further down the road.

Well, that had been an hour ago. It seemed that she needed to readjust her definition of a few miles because, according to Dean Winchester, a few miles equalled at least sixty.

Shifting angrily in her seat, she turned to him and was about to voice out her protest when she caught him just as he hurriedly averted his eyes.

She looked down to find that, in her stirring, her skirt had hiked up a bit exposing quite a significant amount of her thigh.

Anxiously, her hands pulled at the fabric, stretching it to cover her knees.

Why, out of all her clothes, had she chosen to wear a skirt? She never wore skirts!

'_Crap!'_

As if the tension in the small compartment wasn't heavy enough, this little incident served to fuel it to unbearable new levels of awkwardness and she blurted the first thing that popped into her head:

"I never wear skirts."

Dean looked at her from under furrowed brows and she sank into her seat; her heat racing.

Why did he have to make her so nervous?

"I need a smoke." She announced.

For a second he pondered whether or not to go against her, but right now he needed some air so he pulled over.

Amy didn't even let the car come to a full stop before she was opening the door and stepping out. The cigarette was lit in record time too.

She leaned on the hood of the Impala, taking a long drag when she heard Dean exit.

Great! What now? More uncomfortable silence?

The seconds ticked by languorously.

'_Yep!'_

"So where's this motel you were talking about?"

The moonlight was weak, but the headlights served to light up their faces.

"It's a few miles-"

"You said that sixty miles ago."

"It's a little further." The doubt was evident in his voice.

"You have no idea if there's a motel nearby, don't you?" She cocked an accusing eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, I do."

"No, you don't. We're gonna end up having to sleep in the car."

"Maybe…" He shrugged and Amy pushed herself off the Impala.

"I knew it! Winchester, I need a shower!"

"Yeah, you were kind of sticking it up back there." Dean agreed promptly and Amy saw red.

"And it's all your fault."

"Here we go again." He exhaled noisily standing up and facing her. With his arms outstretched at his sides he wondered: "Is there _anything_ that isn't my fault?"

She straightened up in a feeble attempt to match his height as she retorted:

"Off the top of my head? Maybe global warming, other than that? Yeah, it is!"

Dean was shaking his head at her; his dark-circled eyes flashed heatedly down at her:

"God, I can't wait for all this to be over, so I can take this damn ring and flush it down the toilet! Maybe then I can get rid of you!"

It was hard to ignore the sudden pang in her chest brought on by his caustic words, but she valiantly tried anyway:

"No one forced you to come after me!" She pinned him with her scowl.

"New flash, Carrington – If you die and I end up in Hell. It's that simple."

She faltered in her stance for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make her hate herself for this show of vulnerability. Her eyes were large and glassy as she drew one much needed gasp of air.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

A/N - There is a big cliffy on this one, so be warned.

'_Why'd you go and say that?' _

'_She deserved it! She's arrogant and bossy- Fuck! She was pissing me off… I have to go to Charleston! I'll just hitch hike with the horniest trucker I can find! Yeah, that's just… Genius, my ass! She's-'_

Dean's mind was swarmed by a mesh of random, fragmented thoughts that pulled him in opposite directions. One instant he wanted to smack her, the next, hold her, or grab her… or-

'_Christ! Look at her… Shit! Idiot! Is she- Oh, God! Please say something!'_

She wished Sam was there to stop this fight. To stop Dean from saying these things or at least interfere long enough to give her time to reign in the pain and anger that was currently smothering her. She feared that if she spoke at that precise moment her voice would falter, her throat would close up and she'd expose her pathetically helpless state of mind.

But Sam was miles away, most likely at Bobby's by now.

After her Houdini act, the two brothers had parted ways and Dean had been left with the apparently God-awful chore of dragging her ass back. That plan, however, had been proven unfeasible after the confrontation at the diner. It had become clear that Amy wasn't going to back down. So Dean had reluctantly accepted to drive her to Charleston albeit ignorant of the reason behind the unscheduled detour.

At this particular moment, stuck in the middle of Louisiana, she loathed the thought of having to spend another second in his presence; the prospect of two whole days was daunting to say the least.

Why had she insisted on going to Charleston? And why had she accepted Dean's ride?

'_Oh, right! The wedding…'_

She had to be there and Dean was her only chance to get there on time. So she pushed back the constricting lump in her throat and forced out:

"I have the mojo bag." God, this was hard! "I don't _need_ a bodyguard."

Dean widened his eyes at her in disbelief.

"Are you freaking kidding? Forget Lilith's goons. Did you see the way Gumpy was looking at you back there? Even with Lilith out of the equation, you'll find a way to get yourself in a shit load of trouble.'

"Gumpy was harmless." She countered with renewed vigor, now that the pain numbed and the bruised female ego surfaced. "He's not the first horny guy I've had to deal with."

Dean just gawked for a few moments then, literally, deflated in defeat. Turning on his heels to put some much needed distance between himself and the infuriating redhead he sighed:

"I give up. It's impossible to talk to you."

"I could handle Gumpy!" She insisted with aggravating bravado.

He immediately faced her, narrowing his eyes at her from the middle of the abandoned road.

"Really, Xena? And just what were you gonna do if he-"

He couldn't even say it without being struck by a stomach-churning wave of nausea.

"I have pepper spray!" She pointed out.

"Pepper spray? So you blind the guy for a second and then what? You're stuck in a truck with drool-boy in the middle of nowhere and?!"

She drew a blank.

"Well-um…"

But she wasn't about to forfeit this dispute.

"Who says Gumpy was even going to try anything?"

Dean halted, dumbstruck by her mind-boggling naivety.

"Have you taken a good look in the mirror lately, Carrington?"

"What's wrong with the way I look?" She pouted offended. She thought she was dressed rather conservatively.

"Nothing! That's the whole freaking point!"

Her breath hitched.

"The guy has probably been on the road for _weeks_, with nothing but his hand to keep himself busy. He was so desperate Rosanne Bar probably looked like a joyride to him. Then someone like _you_ comes batting her pretty little eyes at him? Hell, it's like an all access pass to Disney World!" He was rambling now and the more he did it, the more it fuelled the raw emotions he'd kept bottled up inside.

Amy, though, was stuck on Disney World.

He thought she was Disney World? That was good, right? Or maybe not? This was going too fast! She couldn't think straight.

In the freakish amusement park analogy what came after Disney World? Disneyland?

While Amy searched for the answer, Dean continued to vent out in disjointed sentences waving his arms in the air:

"Shit! Do you have any idea what you look-! What a guy _feels_ when he's around you? What he thinks when you-?"

Her heart was racing but she kept on her façade of nonchalance.

"Not everyone suffers from serious lack of impulse control like you, Winchester."

He swallowed up the distance between them in a flash and was suddenly back in her face.

"Lack of impulse control? I lack impulse control?!" He half chuckled, half growled. "You think I lack impulse control?"

She nodded proudly. She wanted to add a smartass quip or something, but his closeness and the intense passion irradiating from him made her mute.

"Oh, sweetheart, you have no clue just how much fucking control I have to be in when I'm around you." His shaking hand balling into a fist imaged the overwhelming effort it took him to reel in his emotions. "Believe me. I'm in control."

"Evidently."

Amy's sarcastic scoff only served to fuel his rage.

"I haven't had sex in almost a year. A _year_! Do you know how long that is for a guy?"

She froze. Sex? How did sex have anything to do with their argument? Somewhere in her muddled brain she was struck by the realization that Dean's previous remarks maybe didn't refer to Gumpy at all.

"And what?! Somehow that's my fault? I've kept you from-"

"Yes, you have!"

"How?!" She was shocked.

"Because you're everywhere! Everywhere I turn there you are!"

Amy saw red at his accusations.

"And whose fault is that?! You're the one who chased me down half a state, Winchester. Not the other way around." She teethed.

Who the hell did he think he was? Blaming her for this. She'd tried to keep away. God only knew she _needed_ to stay away from him to keep what little sanity she had left intact!

"I wanted to leave. I tried to leave! _Twice_! Why the hell didn't you just let me go?"

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

He opened his mouth but she anticipated his reply.

"And if you say the word ring again I'm going to clock you."

For the first time Dean silently thanked her for her nasty habit of interrupting him. If she hadn't done it… He didn't even want to think about that, so he simply continued arguing, failing to correct her on her erroneous conclusion.

"What? You think there's some other reason?" He puffed bitterly.

"If it's so god damn awful being around me, maybe you should just risk it and leave me the _hell_ alone!" She yelled in his face before stomping off to the side of the road.

Thunder roared in the distance and a barely noticeable drop of temperature announced the coming change in the weather. She took a long drag from her cigarette before putting it out.

The nicotine boost seemed to spark her mind and she decided on the spot:

"You know what? I'll just go to the wedding on my own. Just drop me off at the next motel and I'll find a way."

"Fine!" Dean agreed automatically.

'_Wait?'_

"What wedding?"

"None of your fucking business." She growled trudging towards the car.

"Hey! Watch it!" Dean scolded when she slammed the door shut.

She waited for him to take his seat behind the wheel before she defiantly opened and banged the door shut again.

"You're fuckin' unbelievable." He shook his head.

"Shut up and drive." She ordered keeping her eyes on the road, arms stubbornly crossed over her chest.

Ten seconds ticked away and still he hadn't reached for the ignition.

She was forced to look at him. He merely met her gaze.

"What?"

"I'm not leaving until you apologize."

Her eyes slit furiously at him but he remained unfazed.

"I'm not apologizing." She informed him matter-of-factly.

"In that case, sweetheart, we're not moving." He countered with a tight smirk.

"Fine."

"Fine."

There was silence for an instance.

"You're the one who's in a hurry to crash a wedding." Dean finally spoke.

"Who says I'm trying to crash a wedding?" She questioned with her gaze still on the road.

"You got a call from you ex, there's a wedding involved and suddenly you just _have_ to go to Charleston?"

She could see how the situation could be misconstrued.

"You're an idiot."

"I never pegged you for the desperate ex." He was pushing her buttons and he knew it.

"You don't know what you're talking about." With that she stepped out of the car and stormed off, but not before slamming the car door shut one last time.

Another thunder was quickly followed by a flash of lighting. A storm was brewing.

"Son of a bitch." Dean cursed hastily walking after her.

With ground eating steps he easily fell into stride with her.

Lashing onto her purse she trotted away heatedly.

"Carrington, what are you doing?" He questioned trailing alongside her, occasionally glancing up at the dark sky, noticing the clouds huddling around the moon seconds before swallowing it whole.

"I thought we agreed you'd stop chasing after me." She grumbled tightening her arms around her torso in a feeble attempt to protect herself from the chill of the night.

Now deprived of the moonlight, the hues grew dominant the farther they moved away from the car.

"I'm not chasing after you."

"I'm afraid that is quite literally what you are doing."

She was right.

"Carrington, stop."

Her reply? To accelerate her pace.

"Carrington, get back in the car."

The first drops of water began falling over them, but not a word from her.

"Amy, get back in the fucking car."

The rain intensified, while Amy continued marching in silence.

A storm – just what she needed to top off her delightful day. Someone up there really had it in for her.

"I'm warning you."

No reply and by now the drops were crashing down on them.

"For Christ sake it's pouring out here."

He gave her one last chance and she didn't take it.

"Ok, have it your way!"

Her yelp merged with the thunder in the open road when, with a swift swoop of his arms, he scooped her up onto his shoulder like a sack of potato and made a dramatic u-turn.

Her fists pounded against the small of his back and he hissed in pain but continued stomping, his boots splashing against the wet asphalt halting only when he reached the Impala.

He dropped her unceremoniously to the ground and she stumbled ineptly struggling to find her footing.

"Get in the car." He commanded.

"No." She faced him haughtily despite the annoying drops of rain trickling down her cheeks.

"Get. In. The car." He bit out the words.

His hair was thoroughly drenched as were his jacket and t-shirt.

"No."

"It's shotgun or the trunk. Pick one."

"You're demented, you know that?" She blinked wildly, ignoring the way her curls insisted on sticking to every inch of her back and neck. "You can't just shove people into the back of your trunk."

"Wanna bet?"

"I really don't get you, Winchester." She glared daggers up at him. "You make it a point to tell me just how miserable your life is with me in it but when I want to leave you won't let me."

The downpour angrily flogged their faces, but neither seemed to notice.

"Just trying to keep my gorgeous ass out of hell, sweetheart."

"Will you quit calling me that?! I told you I'm not your sweetheart, I'm not your anything. Just leave me alone."

"No can do, honey."

She almost punched him right then and there.

"Ok, then."

Reaching for her bag she gripped her cell phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Someone needs to babysit me, right? I don't see why it can't be Sam."

"You're calling Sam?"

A groggy voice picked up and Amy ignored Dean.

"Hey, Sammy? It's me."

"_Amy? It's… three o'clock in the morning. Is everything ok?"_

"Everything's fine. Can't you just- Hey!" She protested when Dean snatched the small device from her hand.

"Yeah, Sammy? Go back to sleep."

"_Dean? Is something wrong?"_

"No, Carrington here is just having a hormonal meltdown, that's all."

Even in his dazed mindset Sam could hear Amy's fuming shouts.

"Winchester! Give me my phone back."

"_Are you sure? She sounds kind of pissed."_

"When isn't she pissed?"

"Give it back… Shit!" Amy cursed as she ineffectively jumped for the phone, but Dean smoothly kept her at bay.

The fact that her clothes were clinging to her body and limiting her movements didn't help matters.

"Just go back to sleep."

"_Dean, please try not to kill each other."_

"Sure thing. Night, Sammy."

"_Night."_

He flipped the cap, ending the call and smirked down at Amy.

"Give it back." She warned.

"Sam needs his beauty sleep. Now get in the car before we catch a cold."

"Give me my phone back."

"When you calm down."

He walked around the Impala and poignantly waited for her move.

Reluctantly, she returned to her seat and so did he.

The drops smashed furiously against the windshield.

"See, you can be a good little girl when you want to. Now, I'll just leave this-"

Her actions caught him by surprise when out of the blue she jumped at him. She pawed and pulled at his arm, but he'd already recovered from the initial shock and effortlessly kept her from achieving her goal.

After a few moments of pathetic struggling she settled back into the passenger's seat. She looked like a caged animal; drawing ragged, uneven breaths, with mangled, sopping hair, rainwater dribbling off the end of her disheveled locks, cheeks flushed from both the exertion and the rage.

Her blood raced. Anger, frustration, lust and fear all webbed together to create an intricate mesh she didn't have a clue how to deal with.

It felt like all these sensations were playing emotional musical chairs in her soul. The rapid succession of moods took its toll on her to the point that she was unable to complete the simplest of thought process. So her brain clung to this last coherent idea she'd had – get the phone back. Somehow, in her fractured mind, it presented itself as the answer to everything. If only she could get her phone back everything would be ok. She'd be in control again.

"Give it back." She managed to teeth out between pants.

"I told you. When you calm down."

"Give me my phone back." She yelled.

Even though her demeanor was alarming he stubbornly shook his head and she lunged at him.

She funneled all her emotions into a series of uncoordinated and chaotic movements to the point that Dean had trouble keeping up with her. He tried to get a hold of her forearms, but they eluded him. He'd long dropped the phone, but it didn't matter. It was clear that this fight had nothing to do with the tiny, metallic device.

"Calm down." He shouted while dodging her assaults. "Amy!"

She was completely out of it.

"Amy!" He roared.

When her knee connected with his solar plexus sending a jolt of pain through him he'd had enough. Regrouping, he seized her wrists and pinned her back against the steering wheel.

She bucked against him, fighting to free herself. This went on for quite a while until exhaustion prevailed and she seemingly relented.

Gasping for air, her chest heaving, she jerked her wet hair away from her face and stared down at him.

"Just calm down, alright?!" He barked.

"I hate you."

She'd said it before, but this time it hit home.

He frowned up at her.

And when she reared up again he tightened his clasp on her to the point that he was sure he was hurting her.

"Don't start that up again." He warned her in grave tone.

"I hate you." She panted.

"Yeah, you said that already." He snapped back, not liking the sting in his chest at the sound of that.

"Let go."

"Let's just give it a couple more minutes, shall we? I kinda like having my head connected to my neck."

"Let go." She clenched her teeth.

Realizing the smart-alecky approach wasn't having the desired effect he sobered up:

"Just calm down, Amy."

A chill broke out in her stomach at the sound of her name and it reminded her of just how easily he could affect her. It made her vulnerable and this terrified her.

"Let go."

Their proximity, her straddling his thighs and the way their legs were tangled, his hands on her skin, the closeness of their faces, all this abruptly dawned on them both and it brought smartass Dean back to the forefront. It was the only way he knew how to deal with this…_ thing_ they had between them.

"Is that all you can say? Cause in case you haven't notice it didn't work the first two times you said it."

"Let go." She emphasized her resolve by pushing her hips against his and he fought to keep his eyes from rolling into the back of his head.

"No." It came out in a guttural growl.

"Just let go, Dean."

He wasn't prepared for that or the gut wrenching heat that came along with it.

"I can't." He swallowed hard agaisnt the constricting lump in his throat.

Then he was vaguely aware of the back of his neck hitting the cushioned seat. More importantly, his brain was focused on one thing - the full mouth that was suddenly on his.

A/N - I know, I know... evil... but you were warned...


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

Her actions seemed to emulate the intensity of the full blown storm that now engulfed the car.

Her mouth moved unpredictably over his, sucking and pushing, pinning him against the headrest; her chest pressed into his.

His mind raced at the unexpected change. One second they were screaming their heads off at each other, the next she's-

'_Jesus Christ!'_ His brain cried out when she drove her pelvis into his and prompted him into action.

Eagerly, he matched her fierceness, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in with a sharp tug.

She responded by jerking away from his bear hug and pushing him back into the seat.

He knew she was a control freak and apparently, that particular personality trait prevailed even when it came to sex.

Dean usually didn't mind playing a more passive role, but this time he really didn't want to. He needed to touch her, grab her, search every inch of her, to mark her.

So he pressed on and tried to pull himself up again but she planted her palms flat on his shoulders and brusquely pinned him once more.

Even their lips played a part in this tug of wills as both tried to dominate the kiss.

With her knees firmly planted on either side of him she swelled against him causing her skirt to spill onto her lap, her cotton covered heat to bear down on his groin and it almost drove him to the brink. But when he tried to limit her movements by bring her hips to a halt she clasped his hands and fastened them at his side.

This wouldn't do.

He tried to free himself, but she pressed down harder.

Tearing his mouth away from hers he gasped:

"You're…" Pant. "…such a…" He avoided her lips as she dove in to silence him and was able to finish: "…control freak."

"Shut up." She ordered releasing his arms to cradle his face in her hands, effectively immobilizing him and capturing his mouth for a bruising kiss.

With a new found freedom he fisted a generous amount of her rain soaked hair and hauled her away, breaking the contact between their lips.

"You always have to be in charge, huh?"

"Yes." She replied matter-of-factly making a move to kiss him again, but his clasp on her drenched loops held her in place.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but you can't control this."

She glared at him.

"You're one second away from ruining this."

He met her stare and without flinching stated:

"No, I'm not. You couldn't stop this now even if you wanted to."

It wasn't a threat. It was merely a fact, one that she was now, unfortunately, pretty conscious of.

She hated him for pointing it out.

He was right. There was no stopping this now, but she needed to cling to the illusion that she had been the one to set it in motion. She had decided. She hadn't surrendered to the raw instinct in her, she hadn't succumbed to weeks of torturous desire; she'd made a conscious choice. This was happening because she'd chosen. She was in charge. That's how her mind worked.

And here he was ruining it for her, making her face reality - that she was completely and utterly out of control.

"I hate you." She bit out for the umpteenth time between harsh pants.

"You want me." He corrected.

His arrogance was unbelievable.

"It's a onetime deal. It's only cause of the rings and it's _never_ happening again." She emphasized the word never by cocking her eyebrow at him.

His breathing was just as erratic, his eyes just as large as hers when he promptly responded:

"Whatever you need to tell yourself."

And he smashed his lips against hers.

It was her turn to break away from his mouth.

"I mean it. Onetime!"

He nodded and urgently pulled her in for a kiss.

After a couple of second she pulled back.

"This…" gasp "Doesn't mean…"

Her attention alternated between his broadened eyes and that spilt lip as she tried to recall what she wanted to say.

"I still don't like you." She eventually blurted.

"Ditto." Was all Dean could muster in his current position and he attempted to return to her mouth.

She yanked him back again. Apparently, she wasn't finished.

Damn this woman! She could talk through anything!

"Just this once." She panted.

He nodded and moved to kiss her but she dodged his attack to breathe out:

"And tomorrow…"

"Jesus Christ, woman, can't you just shut up?"

She was about to scold him but he quickly interrupted:

"I get it. This never happened."

She nodded and he silently thanked her when she didn't stop him.

Now that everything was cleared up, their bodies clashed again.

One hand on the nape of his neck served to haul him to her as her mouth attacked his. His arms circled the small of her back bringing her flush against him, her spine arching. His fingers slithered down to the back of her knee, gripping it and hiked her leg up. She wrestled for power but his strength was no match for her when he moved forward and she slanted against the steering wheel.

A large hand nursed the back off her head, urgently drawing her closer while his tongue and lips left hers to drag along the line of her jaw, down the column of her 

throat and the v-shaped neckline of her shirt. The combination of her taste and smell was intoxicating.

"One…"

'_Christ, there she goes again.'_

She was drawing harsh breaths and still managed to speak.

"… one more thing..."

"Hmm…" Her pressing against the fastening of his jeans condensed his language skills to incomprehensible grunts.

Nice...

Man, was he whipped.

"No…"

The top buttons popped open and her shirt fell down her shoulder as his nose nudged at the fabric.

"You tell…"

His tongue traced the contour of her bra strap down to the silky cup and slipped inside.

"Oh, god!" She mewled when he found the hidden pebble.

But she was stubborn so she tried again.

"No…"

Jesus, he was good at this!

'_Concentrate_!'

"You tell… Ah!... tell Sam….Oh, god!" She swallowed hard at the feel of his hand cupping her breast, giving his tongue and teeth better access. "Tell Sam… ugh… or anyone about this… and I'll…"

"Kill me?" He offered stopping to look up at her.

This gave her brain the chance to come up with:

"I was thinking more along the line of castration."

He thrust his pelvis into hers; her eyelids fell closed for a second opening just in time to see him he smirked up at her:

"You sure you wanna do that?"

"I really don't like you." She growled even though she knew how ridiculous it was to say that considering she was half naked, straddling him with her left nipple jutting out of her brassiere.

"I wonder what we'd be doing if you _did_ like me." His eyes remained fixed on hers as his lips revisited her exposed breast.

Spellbound and unable to get her body to follow her mental coaxing, she watched his tongue curl around the dark bud of flesh, teasing her.

She decided then and there it was time to wipe that cocky grin off of his face.

Two could play his game.

Without prior notice, her hand reached the fastening of his jeans. After popping the top button, the zipper easily came undone under the pressure of his cock.

He froze when her fingers wrapped around him. When she began gliding up and down his length his eyes rolled back and he let out an unintelligible throaty curse.

Satisfied that she now had the upper hand she observed his facial muscles contract under her ministrations, changing pace and pressure according to his response until he was gritting his teeth and mumbling incoherently.

He had to find a way to turn the tables on her. That's what he kept telling himself all the while his body was willingly surrendering all control to her.

This wasn't him. He wasn't this easily defeated. He was a veteran-

"Fuck-that's it… don't… Oh, Christ…"

A surge of power slammed into her at his words, at the sight of him… so vulnerable, completely at her mercy. She tightened her grip and his head reared back, his mouth fell open and a rough howl escaped.

She jolted in surprise when he grabbed a hold of her hand forcing her to stop and let go.

He wasn't about to spill himself in her hands like an inexperienced teenage kid.

"My turn."

Was all the warning she got. Her underwear was pushed aside and his fingers were on her, sliding, rubbing making her arch her back.

With her eyes barely focused on the ceiling of the car, she was faintly aware of her shirt being ripped open, the cup of her bra being roughly yanked out of the way before his mouth was on her skin.

She steadied herself by holding onto the dashboard on one side and the door on the other. Her nails dug into the surfaces when he slipped one finger inside of her, his other hand gruffly clutched her breast as he suckled and nibbled at it.

Her hips moved of their own accord, shoving desperately against his hand. Reading her body, he increased the tempo and she hissed when a second finger pushed inside.

The evidence of her arousal slicked his hand, trickling down his palm, and he used it to wet his thumb and draw broad circles around her clit.

It wasn't long before she was bucking frantically, her inner wall clamping down hard around his fingers.

When he knew she was ready, his hand left her breast and locked under her ear, forcing her to look at him.

He wanted her know it was him. He was the one doing this to her.

Their cloudy gazes met. Her pupils overtook her iris, her cheeks flushed and her panting mouth gaped as she toppled over.

That's right… he was the one making her feel like this. He was the one making her come harder than she ever had.

And now, staring wide eyed at him she couldn't deny it, not even to herself.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35**

**A/N – **Sorry it took so long to update this time, but I rewrote this chapter about three times and… well, I'm still not satisfied with it.

Anyway…it's not beta-ed, so be warned.

Plus I made a 10 second teaser for this fanfic. You can check it out at Youtube – watch in high quality please -

FF won't let me write a link, so just go to youtube and add this --/user/Echidnaspen -- on the URL of the site

It wasn't supposed to feel this way.

After what had just take place she was supposed to feel some sort of immunity to this absurd gravitational pull she'd developed towards the aggravating hunter sitting beneath her. Having just found her release she was supposed to have regained some shred of self-control.

That was the ridiculous plan in her insane mind anyway.

As it turned out, it had proven not only to be ridiculous as it had also, apparently, backfired, because instead of promptly retreating away from him she was frantically pulling at his jacket, yanking and tugging at it until it was off. And her demented behavior didn't end there. No! The current situation had her attempting to haul his t-shirt over his head, with Dean more promptly helping her out.

The grey fabric stretched to its limits as the two clumsily tried to discard him of the item. In their urgent rush they pulled in opposite directions, making a huge mess of it, but eventually it came off. The t-shirt hadn't even reached the black leather, after being flung unceremoniously into the backseat, before his mouth was on hers once more.

His hand hooked at the angle of her jaw and drew her in. His nostrils flared, anxiously inhaling both her scent and much needed air, but he refused to break away from her despite the sting in his lungs.

His brain mildly registered the bizarre rearrangement of priorities - that at that moment kissing her was a few notches higher than breathing of his list.

He grunted impatiently when her palms on his chest nudged him back and she pulled away, but he insistently trailed after her.

After a minor struggle, she managed to tear herself away from him. She was practically draped over the steering and the wheel dug into her back.

Her breath hitched a bit at the sight of him, staring up at her expectantly, with tinted cheeks and swollen lips; his messy hair sticking up in different directions.

"What?" He demanded with what sounded like a rasped mewl.

She hadn't changed her mind, had she?

Jump starting her brain after a two second delay she blurted:

"Condom…"

'_Shit.'_

Did he have one with him?

He hastily searched the back pockets of his jeans, jerking his hips up.

"Ouch!" Amy yelped when her head hit the ceiling. "Careful there, Casanova."

First her back and now her skull…

"So?"

He gulped and threw an impish look her way.

Her eyes grew large.

"You don't have a condom?!"

"Maybe I've got some in my jacket." He quickly offered, grabbing the clothing item to rummage through its pockets.

He didn't notice his wallet fall into Amy's lap.

Despair gripped him.

No, no, this couldn't be…

"How can you _not_ have a condom?"

His attention fell on the glove compartment and he dove for it, causing Amy to jolt back.

"Hey! Watch it!" She griped.

"I think…" He grunted as he twisted awkwardly in his scavenger hunt with Amy still sitting on his lap. "…I have one somewhere in here."

"How can you not have condoms?" She repeated picking up his wallet.

"Didn't you… ugh… hear what I said?" He strained.

"Huh?"

"About sex?"

"You mean the fact that you _supposedly_ haven't been laid in a year?" She scoffed skeptically while searching his wallet.

Apparently, she wasn't convinced.

He slouched in defeat.

"I haven't, ok? Not something I'm proud of… Crap…" He cursed realizing that there were no condoms in the glove compartment and returning to his sitting position. "I haven't exactly been- What are you doing?"

"Huh?"

She didn't bother to meet his gaze. She was too busy inspecting the tear in lining of his wallet. There was something jammed inside.

"Give me that."

He tried to snatch it away from her but she was faster.

"Oh, how the tables have turned." She singsonged with a wide grin. "How do you like it?"

"Carrington… give me that." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I don't think so." She mocked, fascinated by the change in his demeanor.

He was… afraid? What did he have in his wallet that he didn't want her to see? Her curiosity was peeked. Returning it was definitely out of the question.

"Carrington…"

"Nope. What do you have in here- Ah!" She shrieked when he abruptly gripped her hips and hauled her closer.

The two froze as the sudden motion caused their bare pelvises to come together for the first time.

"Jesus!"

"Shit!"

Both choked out in unison.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, the wallet forgotten somewhere on the floor of the Impala, along with her cell phone.

With their forehead resting together they fought to even out their erratic breathing patterns.

His eyes were closed, his teeth clenched as he desperately tried to keep from moving. She was so wet. It would be so easy to just slide into her.

"_Please_ tell me you have a condom _somewhere_ in his _stupid_ car." She begged him.

Even in his altered state he still attempted to word out his indignation over her lack of respect for his baby.

"It's not- Fuck."

His eyes snapped open when she stirred against him; her soaking heat rubbing into him, and promptly added:

"D-don't do that."

She was never good at following orders, and this was doubly so when it came to Dean Winchester.

"Amy… just… Christ! Stop… Fuck… that feels… Amy…" He was babbling incomprehensibly.

He knew it. He didn't care.

She mewled frustrated, all the while her hips glided back and forth, clinging to the luscious friction it created between their sexes.

"Amy… stop…"

He didn't know how much more of this he could take. He just wanted to be inside her, have her warmth surrounding him, squeezing-

"Shit! Amy, you have to stop… Now!" His large hands clasped her hips to halt her.

"This is all your fault." She whined.

He thought of saying something along the lines of '_what else is new?_' or _'when isn't it my fault?_' but right now all he could muster was a pathetic _pff_. And even that didn't come out right.

"I had condoms in my bag…"

That caught his attention and his eyes zoomed in on her.

"Why do you have condoms?"

His stomach churned at the idea of her with another man.

"What? I'm a woman so I can't have condom? I do have sex, you know?"

She jerked up and the two let out a simultaneous pant as the movement brought their pelvises closer once again.

This was ridiculous. This wasn't her. Sure, she liked sex… a lot! But she never lost it like this.

She was acting like a cat in heat.

And much like one she resumed grinding into him.

"Amy…" Instead of a warning, it came out as a guttural sob.

"Are you sure…" She paused for a second at the rush of heat that spread between her legs as a result of the rasping between them. "Are you sure you haven't had sex for over a year?"

"Wha'?"

"Abstinence… one year… you."

Great! Now she sounded like a horny telegraph; moaning out fractured words glued together with needy gasps while humping a man she was supposed to despise.

"A guy tends to keep… ah… track… of these things…"

"Don't be a smartass… Winchester… Just… ah… answer."

"Why are you so obsessed-"

She glared daggers at him.

"Just answer the damn question, Dean!"

"No, I haven't."

"You sure?"

"Ten months and almost two weeks."

She stopped flabbergasted:

"You're counting?"

"What?!" He said defensively.

"You're pathetic." She snorted.

"I'm a guy." He corrected scowling up at her.

She rolled her eyes at him.

The two looked at each other, frustration plastered on their faces while the silence built around them. The only things disturbing the stillness were the sound of heavy breathing and the storm raging outside.

"I guess…" He began. "…rain check?"

She nodded slowly and he mimicked her. The two bobbed their heads pitifully but neither made an attempt to put some distance between them.

When her teeth began worrying her lower lip he gulped.

"Ok, you _really_ have to get off of me now…"

"Right…" She agreed meekly but didn't budge.

His focused on her mouth and his breathing became even more labored.

"Right now, Amy… right now would be good!" He suggested urgently.

This time she didn't even bother with saying anything. She just remained there, straddling him, her face inches from his.

"Amy… you gotta help me here-"

He was cut short when, suddenly, she slouched, bringing their naked pelvises into contact. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and his jaw clenched.

"That was _not_ what I had in mind when I asked for-"

She resumed thrusting her hips, with a longer stroke, bringing his tip of cock right to her entrance.

"Whoa-whoa… Wha-what are you doing?"

"I'm on the pill."

"What about-"

His eyes grew large as she angled her hips.

His jaw muscles twitched at the pressure and the sight of her, rising over him just before letting her body fall.

"Gah…" He growled under the combination of pressure, warmth and smooth moisture as she took him in for just an inch, before pulling back.

He was ready to implore, beg, whatever she wanted just so long as he could feel that again. He didn't have to.

After a torturous second she lowered herself, bringing him further inside.

He struggled to keep his eyes on hers while she repeated the torturous process over and over again.

She fought the urge to just push down fully, grabbing hold of his shoulder on one side and the door on the other.

In the confined space of the car, she held his gaze and then, with one hard thrust, he was inside her completely.

After that… all hell broke loose.

Their mouths collided, their tongues battled eagerly.

His hands yanked at her shirt until it was draped around her elbows, tugged at her skirt, bunching it at her waist, while he bucked up and she crashed down on him.

Their bodies moved frenziedly, shoving, driving into each other desperately and filling the air around them with their whimpers, gasps and the sound of wet skin smacking together.

He trailed bruising, open mouth kissed along her neck and chest. Not bothering to undo the back clasp, his fingers pushed her bra down, until her breasts were overflowing out of the silk fabric. He cupped one mound of flesh, squeezing it, bringing its darker tip to his lips, greedily licking and nibbling at the sensitive skin.

There was a loud pang as her hand hit the ceiling of her car. Her palm pressed against it, giving her the much needed leverage to propel her hips against him.

He reared up, punctuating each rough, harsh jerk with a grunt or a pant.

He needed more, harder, faster.

Gripping her thighs, he hauled her into him.

He abandoned her breasts to watch her – her back arched, one hand on the wheel, the other on the hood, she surged above him with her cheeks tainted red and her mouth gapping.

That image almost dug him in, so he shut his lids tightly and tried to erase it. But he could still see her.

"Oh, God… harder…"

His eyes opened at her groaning voice and his hips followed her command at their own accord, ramming up, while his hands kept her in place.

"Yes, yes…"

She really needed to stop talking like that, or this would be over…

'_Pretty much right now!'_

"Oh God… Dean…"

Ok, that was it! Moaning his name? Not smartass, not Winchester, but his actual name? So not helping! So he pulled her in for another series of demanding kisses, but she still found a way to babble out a few curses between bites and licks.

He tried to slow down the pace, but she wouldn't let him.

Resorting to years of experience, his hand wormed in between their bodies to find the small pebble of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

In less than ten seconds, she was coming.

"Oh God…"

With her nails buried in the flesh of his arm, she jolted one more time. He felt her inner muscles flutter and squeeze him and he was pushed over.

He slammed into her twice before grunting out his release:

"Jesus Christ, Amy…"


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

The familiar guitar riff slothfully shoved him towards awareness and, gradually, the human-shaped warmth covering his body registered in his muddled brain.

_Hey, girl, stop what you're doin'  
Hey, girl, you'll drive me to ruin_

Soft curls traced over his arm and caused his skin to prickle as a face nuzzled against his chest. His nostrils flared, an unmistakable scent clueing him in on the identity of the person currently lying on top of him. The memories came rushing back to him and his eyes snapped open; his heart skipped a beat.

_I don't know what it is that I like about you  
But I like it a lot.  
Won't let me hold you  
Let me feel your lovin' charms_

He watched her tentatively, barely aware of the faded ringtone. She scrunched up her facial muscles and burrowed into him, clearly trying to shun away consciousness.

_Communication breakdown_

Plant's high-pitched shriek directed his attention to his cell phone as it shuddered its way across the passenger seat; the small screen flashing rapidly.

Careful not to wake her, he reached for it.

_It's always the same  
I'm having a nervous breakdown  
Drive me insane_

The tiny shift was enough to finally tow her back into alertness and she began to stir.

_Hey, girl, I got something I think you ought to know  
Hey, babe, I wanna tell you that I love-_

His fingers grasped the cell phone and hastily answered the call. He made a mental note to change his ringtone. This one was hitting a little too close to home.

"Hey, Sammy."

"_Dean? Why are you whispering?"_ His brother inquired confused.

But the older hunter wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on her, watching her wake up.

Her lids fluttered and her nose wrinkled in protest against the bright morning light.

She pursed her lips at the dryness in her mouth and looked up.

Her glazed eyes zeroed in on him and the exact moment consciousness hit her was punctuated by a frightening widening of her pupils.

"Hey." He mumbled hoarsely with a racing heart, disregarding Sam.

Her greeting, if she had actually managed to word it out, wasn't audible. She slowly craned her body away from his. His breath hitched and she followed his gaze. The sight of her bra bunched under her breasts caused her to jolt up. Her clumsy hands frantically yanked her shirt closed while she scrambled to get off of him.

She lurched gracelessly, fighting to untangle herself in the confined space of the Impala. Arms and legs waved around ineptly but eventually she plopped down awkwardly into the passenger seat.

After adjusting her clothes, she busied herself by fretfully tugging her hair behind her ears.

"Yeah, I'm still here…" Dean finally answered his brother all the while throwing her sideway glances.

Amy kept her gaze buried in her lap.

"_What's going on, man? Is everything ok?"_

"Everything's…" Another fleeting look. "…fine."

That was unquestionably a lie. Both brothers knew it.

"_You sure, cause-"_

"We're fine."

Dean's tone left no room for doubt. It screamed _'Drop it, Sammy.'_

And that's what he did.

"_Did you get to Charleston?"_

"No. Not yet."

Sam knew that, considering Dean's suicidal driving style, the two should have reached their destination by now. He also knew better than to question the reason for the delay.

"We had to make a…"

He felt her tense up and chose his words carefully.

"…detour. We should be there by tonight."

"_Ok. Call me when you get there?__"_

"Sure."

"_Be safe."_

"You too."

The call ended and the tension that had already been palpable reached a screeching new high.

The seconds ticked by and Amy began to fidget.

'_Please don't, please don't, please don't.'_ She pleaded with him mentally.

"Amy-"

She didn't give him a chance to say anything else.

"Just drive."

After an hour of mute driving, the two exited the car in silence and entered the motel.

Flattening her skirt and pressing down the wrinkles in her shirt, Amy trailed after Dean as he walked over to the front desk.

"Morning, sir." The man behind the counter greeted Dean, though he was clearly more interested in the disheveled woman accompanying the stranger.

"We need a room for the day."

"Sure."

"Hey!" Dean called snapping his fingers in front of the man's face to redirect his gaze from Amy.

The clerk straightened up instantly, focusing on Dean and apologizing.

"Sorry, sir. Will that be two queens or one king-"

"Two!" Amy cut in. Noticing the jitteriness in her demeanor she quickly added with forced smoothness: "Two queens, please."

"Ok, miss. Will that be cash or-"

"Credit." Dean interrupted, handing him a plastic card.

"Sure thing, Mister… Daltrey."

While the man handled the paperwork, Amy nudged her way towards the counter.

"Will that be all?"

"Um…" She began shyly, shifting in her damp clothes. "Do you know if there is a clothing store or something around here?"

The man winced regretfully and shook his head.

Great… she was stuck with this clammy, smelly outfit. She wondered for the umpteenth time what had possessed her to wear a skirt.

'_Idiot!'_

He entered the room and dropped his duffle bag on the floor.

"We eat, we shower and then we're back on the road." He announced monotonically.

Amy nodded and, with her head down, made a bee line for the bathroom.

He allowed his back muscles to relax when the door closed behind her and he heard the water start running.

Exhaling heavily he ran his hand through his hair. He blinked a couple of times. Ever since he'd woken up his brain insisted on presenting him with Technicolored flashes of the events of the previous night.

"Shit."

He had to get out of there.

The slamming sound snapped her out of her reverie.

He'd left. Probably to get them something to eat.

Good, she was starving…

She paused for a second under the warm stream of the shower.

Actually, she wasn't hungry at all.

No wait! She was… no she wasn't.

"God, Amy, you're a freaking mess!" She scolded herself, leaning against the tiled wall.

He halted at the entrance to the motel room trying to find the necessary mindset in order to be able to face her.

After a couple of seconds he was ready and he turned the knob.

She was sitting on the bed, bare legs crossed. Her wet locks drenched the blue fabric of _his_ shirt into a darker shade.

She noticed his eyes lingering on the clothing item and quickly excused herself:

"I didn't have anything to wear. Hope you don't mind."

He shrugged as nonchalantly as humanly possible. He didn't dare utter a word. He was pretty sure that, with the way his stomach was doing the wild cha-cha routine, anything coming out of his mouth would sound like gibberish.

He wanted to tell her he'd brought breakfast but, instead, simply threw the paper bag in front of her and disappeared into the bathroom.

He didn't want to, but he knew that, eventually, he had to come out of there.

Wrapping a towel around his waist he walked back into the room.

She was still in the same position, on the bed, the bag left untouched in front of her.

"Not hungry?" He questioned, walking over to his bed.

Hauling his duffle bag onto the mattress he began sifting through its contents.

"N-."

'_Shit!'_ She cursed inwardly when her voice cracked.

After a second she tried again.

"No."

'_Oh, for Christ sake it's just a naked chest!'_ Her brain reprimanded.

They remained in uncomfortable silence as he dressed himself.

"So…"

Dean looked up at her when she spoke.

"Do you have any bottoms I can wear, or am I supposed to ride commando all the way to Charleston?"

'_Fuck!'_

She wasn't wearing anything under his shirt?

The palms of his hands dampened almost instantly and his heart jumped to his throat.

He quickly noticed that his heart wasn't the only body part currently engaged in jumping.

He knew he was a horny bastard. Sam made a point of reminding him of this all the time. But this was borderline pathological.

Her voice, her scent and now even the fleeting mental picture of her was enough to incite an immediate response from his body.

He hastily sat down.

"Winchester?!"

"Huh?"

"You still in there?" She wondered.

'_Don't get up, don't get up!'_

But she didn't grant him his wish.

Though he tried hard to keep his eyes busy on anything else, they kept drifting back to her as she walked about the room.

Burying his gaze in his duffle bag he fished out an old pair of jeans.

"That's not going to hold." She pointed out.

Crap! She was closing the distance between them.

He was one second away from just grabbing her and yanking her onto his lap.

"That's all I got." He managed to utter gracelessly.

"I'll just put on my skirt until we reach the next town." She decided and he let out a sigh of relief when she walked away.

She'd just barely shuffled into her skirt and he was already up.

"Let's go."

"You're not going to eat?"

"Not, hungry."

With that he flung the duffle bag over his shoulder and exited the room, not bothering to check if she was coming along.

"Ok. You've got five minutes." Dean announced as he parked in front of the clothing store.

"Huh?"

"Ok, ten!" He relented.

"I'm not going in there looking like this."

"What's wrong with the way you look?"

At his question Amy pointedly glanced down at herself with a disgusted look.

"I look like something a tisic cat coughed up!"

When he still didn't react, she added.

"On a very bad day!"

He looked at her expectantly.

After a moment…

"What?" He demanded.

"You go and get me something."

"What am I supposed to get you?"

"Anything! I'm not really picky."

"Right…"

His eye roll earned him a deadly glare.

"Just go." She grumbled.

"Fine." He eventually agreed.

He was halfway out of the car when she bellowed:

"Don't forget the undies."

He froze.

"The what?"

"Underwear."

He was back on his seat in a flash.

"No. Way!" He said flatly.

"I need clean underwear." She half-whined.

"Then you go get it." He responded promptly.

"Hello, cat-spit here, remember?"

He just kept looking straight ahead.

"Winchester!"

Nothing.

"I can't believe you're embarrassed about buying women's underwear."

"I'm not embarrassed." He countered.

"Then why don't-"

"Ok, fine." He grudgingly agreed stepping out of the Impala and stomping his way into the store.

Half an hour later he was back.

"What took you so- Oomph!" She wheezed when he chucked a plastic back onto her lap.

It was her turn to roll her eyes.

He didn't say a word, simply turned the key in the ignition and drove off.

Inspecting the shopping, her eyes widened with every item she discovered.

"What's this?" She questioned.

"Clothes." He grumbled.

"It's a mumu! You bought me a mumu?"

"I thought you weren't picky." He reminded her caustically.

"It's a mumu!" She repeated. "And…"

Her jaw dropped when she saw the underwear he'd chosen. He could almost feel her scowl on him.

"What am I to you? Eighty? These look like something my grandmom would wear."

"Next time you go." He declared with his eyes on the road.

Amy just shook her head. There was no point in arguing. She was just glad to get out of his shirt. Being surrounded by his scent was driving her nuts.


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

**AN:**

Sorry for the long hiatus, people. But i've been busy making videos on Youtube and kinda got sidetracked. Promise to try and keep the time between updates to a minimum! ;)

"Dude! It's a freaking mumu!" He reminded himself for the umpteenth time, letting his head drop with a low thud against the steering wheel of the car.

He shut his eyes tightly but the image he was trying hard to escape lingered behind closed lids so he let out a frustrated sigh and looked up to see her through the dusty windshield. She stood by the side of the road, cigarette in hand, tapping a jittery foot on the asphalt and bracing herself against the blowing wind. The chilly gushs of air rushed past her, causing the clearly excessive amount of fabric she wore to bustle lazily behind her. Her messy hair followed suit.

She was wearing the most unattractive piece of clothing he could find in that stupid store and the sight of her still made him…

"I'm a sick, pathetic-" His self-chastising was brought to a halt by a sharp ring tone.

It was coming from her purse.

He tapped the horn and she jolted, redirecting her attention to the Impala.

"Phone." He said, but she clearly didn't hear him so he fished out the device and waved it at her.

Begrudgingly, she took one last drag of her cigarette and stomping it out of its misery trudged back to the car.

He handed her the cell phone when she took a seat next to him.

He couldn't help glancing at the screen when she checked to see the origin of the incoming call.

His gut wrenched at the flashing letters that spelled Michael's name.

Before answering she gave him a quick sideways glance and Dean hastily averted his gaze. Turning the key in the ignition, the car revved up and they were back on the road.

"Hello?" The awkwardness in her tone was palpable.

He kept his eyes on the stretch of asphalt ahead, but all his senses were sharply attuned to her every movement.

"Hey. Yeah…" Her voice was suddenly lighter as was her demeanor. "I know… But we should be there in about two hours."

He felt her tense up once again when she continued to speak. She cleared her throat ineptly before saying in a low voice.

"Yeah, I'm bringing a friend."

There was a beat and she obviously hesitated before she replied.

"Dean."

His grip tightened around the wheel; his interest peeked, but his curiosity was left unsatisfied when she reduced her speech to hum's and incoherent murmurs.

"Um-huh, yeah…"

She seemed to tire of clumsily dodging whatever topic she was discussing and quickly cut the conversation short with:

"You must be really busy now with the preparations and all… See you in a couple of hours?"

There was another long pause before:

"Ok. See you then. I love you too."

At her last words, it felt as if his throat collapsed; his stomach convulsed powerfully at the overwhelming urge to punch something.

Instead, he gulped hard to push down the acid trickling its way into his mouth.

She was off the phone and silence prevailed in the small cabin.

Uncomfortable, suffocating silence that made her want to scream.

Thankfully, Dean shared the sentiment and mercifully broke the stillness:

"So… You gonna tell me what's so important about Charleston?"

"I told you. I have to go to a wedding."

"O-kay. Can you at least tell me who's getting hitched so I can congratulate the happy couple?" He returned smugly.

After a long sigh, she relented.

"Her name's Nancy. She's Michael's kid sister. I've know her since she was twelve. Their mom died when she was still a baby and it was just her, Michael and their dad. When Michael and I were together, we hung out all the time. I was there for the pimple crisis, the awkward body issues, everything from boys are yucky to maybe not so yucky phase… So… in a way, she's like my sister too."

He dared to throw her a feeling sideways look. There was a veil of nostalgia covering her face, a quiet smile tugging at the corner of her lips, all tell signs of the affection she nurtured for this Nancy.

His breath hitched when she met his gaze. It was a rarity to see that expression on her face. Usually, when she looked at him it was with either arrogance or exasperation, sometimes even rage.

"I can't miss my kid sister's wedding."

It took a few seconds for his mouth to utter a response.

"You won't." He assured her and then he smiled.

A chill crept down her spine and she uncomfortably redirected her gaze back to the road.

There it was again… the stifling stillness. God, why had she given into that brainless, moronic urge? Why couldn't she just keep her legs-

"What about the groom? You know him?"

"Syd? Yeah, I've known him since-"

"You're kidding, right?"

"What?"

She gave him a questioning look and he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Syd and Nancy?"

She smirked and nodded

"Syd and Nancy?" He repeated. "Really?"

"It was the only reason she agreed to go out with him in the first place." She added.

"I think I'm gonna like this Nancy chick."

"Wow." Was all he could say when he brought the car to a halt in front of the large mansion.

"I know." Amy breathed.

Her stomach tightened; the sight of the household flooding her mind with ancient memories. It felt as if they belonged to another version of herself, another existence. Hell, her entire life up to the night Dean had been brought to her doorstep seemed like a different reality; a very distant and oddly unfamiliar reality. Looking back, that moment had been a turning point, and though the time spent in the company of the Winchester brothers encompassed a mere few weeks, it spanned out and its weight on her psyche easily matched that of her former, now foreign existence.

"Michael's loaded, huh?"

"Yep." She popped the 'p', opening the side door and was already out of hearing range when Dean mumbled:

"Great."

Amy's ex was a tall, dark, disgustingly rich… doctor.

He stepped out of the car.

"Just great..."

"What?"

"Nothing." He replied dismissively.

Amy frowned and was about to inquire further when she abruptly found herself seized by two scrawny arms and her face was suddenly covered by a mass of blonde hair.

Dean watched as Amy struggled to keep her balance while the young woman squeezed the air out of her.

"Oh, my God! You made it!"

Amy's complexion was already a few hues past the healthy shade of pink when the girl finally let up.

"I think I cracked a rib or something." Amy feigned vexation with little success as a smile took over at the sight of Nancy. "I told you I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Yeah, well, it took you long enough." Nancy scolded. "I thought you were going to miss my bachelorette party."

"It wouldn't be worth having one without wildcat Amy."

The newcomers' attention was drawn by the approaching brunette's comment.

Dean eyed the woman. She was definitely a looker. His brain was working overtime, split between checking out the leather pants wearing hot chick or figuring out exactly what she meant by '_wildcat'._

"Don't start, Leila." Amy rolled her eyes at the dark haired woman before giving her a warm hug.

When Leila pulled away she couldn't help taking a jab at Amy's latest fashion statement:

"Damn, girl. What the hell is that? Is that a mumu?!"

After issuing a steely glare Dean's way she responded:

"It's a long story. The cliff note's version – my bag was stolen, I got stuck with this."

"That's just nasty." The blonde threw in her two cents.

"Thanks for the style newscast, Nancy."

Leila's eyes fell on the stranger standing a few feet away from them.

"And that's just…" She allowed a dramatic pause to filter by as she straightened to her full height and inhaled sharply before she bluntly leered at the man and purred: "…yummy."

The over the top reaction was met by a disgusted huff and a sly smirk; the first one from Amy, the second coming from a chest-inflated, smirk sporting Dean as he closed the distance between himself and the three women.

"Dean this is Leila and Nancy."

"Hi." Nancy greeted politely.

Leila, on the other hand, instantly zeroed in on Amy with widened eyes as she muttered in a low voice:

"Dean?! The Dean?"

Amy froze.

'_Please tell me he didn't just hear that. Please, please, please.'_ She begged silently while simultaneously glaring murderously up at Leila.

The brunette seemed oblivious to the death stares; she was too busy reappraising the man in front of her.

Dean's brow furrowed.

"What did you mean?"

'_He heard!'_

The tone in his voice left little room for doubt.

'_Thanks, Leila.'_

"Nothing. Let's go. I gotta get out of this thing before someone else sees me wearing it." Amy hurriedly cut the conversation short by gruffly shoving a gawking Leila up the lawn and into the house.

He finished settling into his bedroom about an hour before and now boredom began to rear its ugly head, so he decided to pay Amy a little visit in the quarters she shared with Leila.

"Tell me, does everyone here look like they've just stepped out of an Abercrombie & Finch catalogue?" Dean wondered as he ambled unannounced into her room.

He froze when he looked up and saw Amy.

She jolted and after a second of looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, scurried into the bathroom slamming it shut.

She hadn't been fast enough and he'd gotten a pretty good look at her clad in a black lace bustier complete with straps and thigh-high stockings.

"What the hell?! Don't you know how to knock?" She bellowed angrily behind the closed door.

She leaned on the cold surface, trying to catch her breath. When there was no reply she began rambling out excuses:

"It's not mine, you know?"

Nothing.

"It's Leila's. I didn't have time to go shopping if I wanted to make it to the bachelorette party."

Still no reply. Was he still in her room?

On the other side of the door Dean was struggling to get his racing pulse under control and even out his breathing.

"Winchester!"

Her bark snapped him out of his reverie.

"Yeah?"

The bathroom door creaked open and her head popped out.

"It's not mine." She repeated ineptly.

"I figured as much. You're more of Granny's extra-large undies kind of girl, right?" He mocked.

"Ha! You're a comedian. How refreshing!" She retorted sarcastically. "Now, if you don't mind… Get out!" She bit out.

"'Kay. I'll wait for you in the car."

He was about to leave when she questioned:

"Come again?"

He turned to face her. She was still cowering behind the wooden structure.

He'd always thought Superman's coolest trick was flying. That precise moment completely rearranged the order of preference he'd so painstakingly established during his childhood and early teens.

Screw flying. X-ray vision was now definitely number one.

"Why would you be waiting- Hold on, you're not thinking of coming to the party with us, are you?"

He shrugged, failing to see the problem with that arrangement.

"It's a bachelorette party!"

"So?"

"So, I think you've got a few too many…" She pointedly glanced at his crotch when she added: "… dangling appendages to quality for the guest list."

"Well, too bad, Carrington, cause me and… my dangling appendages are coming." He stated matter-of-factly before turning on his heels to leave.

"Winchester! You can't go… Winchester!" She was so caught up in her scolding she forgot why she was shrinking behind the bathroom door in the first place.

"Careful there, Carrington. Don't want _your_ dangling appendages to make an unscheduled appearance."

She immediately retreated and he chuckle.

"You're not coming." She warned him.

"I'll see you downstairs." He frivolously threw over his shoulder leaving a fuming Amy behind.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

"I can't believe you made me wear this." Amy grumbled pulling at the tight fabric for the fourth time in the under two minutes.

She really didn't know why she kept doing it. No matter how much she stretched in up to cover her cleavage, the damn thing would almost immediately revert back to its original position, which was way too low for comfort.

Ineptly, she trudged down the staircase in uncomfortable stilettos while a snickering Leila and a giggling Nancy trailed behind.

"You really need to learn how to walk on those." Nancy quipped between chuckles.

"Can it, Nancy Drew." Amy threw over her shoulder.

"Don't call me that!" The bride protested.

When they reached the entrance hall the rest of the bachelorette party was waiting.

"Whoa! Amy!" Said one of the women.

"It's not mine."

Amy had a feeling she'd be growling out that sentence a lot that evening.

"Well, it looks hot!"

She didn't get a chance to reply as a male voice coming from behind her cut her off:

"I second that sentiment."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Hey, Michael!" She greeted bashfully, turning around and accepting his hug.

"Ames." He replied. "It's good to see you again."

"Same here."

Watching from a distance, Dean held his breath for a moment.

There was always an unsettling quietness in her voice whenever she'd speak to this man. He seemed to bring out a side of her that was completely unknown to him and it made his blood curl - the idea that Michael could evoke in her a state of serenity; a state diametrically opposed to the one Dean seemed to stir up.

The mention of Jackson caused him to tune into their conversation once again. Poor, bastard! Dean was thrown a bit by the medical jargon, but from what he could gather the old hunter was still in a coma and chances were he wasn't going to wake up any time soon.

"Can you guys talk shop some other time?" Leila, never one for subtlety or finesse, quickly ended the exchange between the two doctors.

"Leila…" Michael redirected his attention to the brunette.

The chilliness with which he said her name made it plain to Dean that Michael and Leila weren't exactly the best of pals.

"… ever the… tactful one." His eyes travelled up and down her barely covered body before he continued: "I see you're sticking to the less is more philosophy of life."

"Michael…" She gave him a head tilt and her lips twisted for a sarcastic, closed-mouth smirk. "How I missed your delightfully self-righteous little comments with just a hint of passive-aggressiveness."

"Guys..." Amy warned.

They always did this. From the moment she'd introduced them they'd taken an instant disliking to each other. They were completely different. Her best friend was a spunky, free spirit and her in your face attitude clashed with Michael's subdued, sometimes conservative demeanor.

"What?" Leila feigned ignorance with little success.

"Whatever… can we just go? My feet are killing me."

"Yeah, let's go." Nancy promptly agreed, clearly psyched about her bachelorette party.

The young girl's comment brought out the protectiveness in her brother:

"You… behave. No heavy drinking. You've got a big day tomorrow."

Nancy rolled her eyes.

"Yes, daddy."

"Don't worry, we promise to keep the virginity smearing to a minimum." Leila jabbed.

Michael chose to ignore her and turned to Amy.

"Keep an eye on her?"

"Will do. Don't worry. See you tomorrow?"

He nodded and flock of women quickly scurried out of the house in a heap of sniggers and squeaks.

~……~

The pulsating tempo of the earsplitting music matched the throbbing in Amy's head and she pressed the bridge of her nose in a meek attempt to numb the pain as they entered the fifth bar of the evening.

Taking a seat, her eyes scanned the place.

Apparently, Dean hadn't made good on his threat of crashing the bachelorette party. It was three o'clock in the morning and there was no sign of him.

'_Good.'_ She tried to convince herself that she was relieved by this turn of events.

"What are _they_ doing here?"

At her question, Amy followed Leila's gaze to find Sid and his party sitting at one of the tables.

Apparently, Michael's plan for the groom's bachelor party was similar to Leila's. Charleston was a big city, but if you insist on skipping from bar to bar you're bound to run into other people.

"My punk Romeo!" Nancy squealed swooning theatrically before gracelessly making a beeline for her groom.

"What? No! Oh, crap!" And off went Leila trying to stop the heavily intoxicated bride.

She wasn't fast enough and the happy couple was already engaged in a dramatic lip lock by the time she reached them.

The disgusted look on Leila's face made Amy smile.

"Hi, Amy."

She twisted to find a beefy man standing beside her.

"Z-Zach?" She winced.

He was one of Michael's friends, a surgeon, and they'd met in her third year of med school. Even though she'd tried, his infatuation for her had always been so obvious it was impossible even for her to ignore it. She'd dreaded the shifts she was on call with him during her surgical rotation. He'd make up ridiculous excuses to be alone with her, constantly beeping her in the middle of the night, to the point that it bordered on harassment. The worst, though, was the way he'd gape at her. There'd been one instance while prepping for surgery she was sure he was going to jump her, but he never did, he never made a move and the two blissfully disregarded the awkwardness his actions brought to their rapport. There was nothing tangible to accuse him of and she figured her relationship with Michael kept him at bay, so she'd never shared her distress with her boyfriend.

By the time they'd broken up, she'd moved back home and she didn't see Zach again, so she never gave it a second thought.

But now, she was a free agent and the surgeon looked like he was about to pounce.

'_Shit.'_

Where was Leila when you needed her?

"Long time no see." He drawled making moon eyes at her.

She laughed nervously and averted her gaze.

By now both parties had meshed together, the various drunken guests quickly pairing off. She was on her own.

'_Fuck_.'

"Yeah…" She replied gauchely.

"So you're back for Nancy's wedding?"

"It would appear so."

'_Help_… _someone_? _Anyone_?' She mentally squeaked.

~………~

He'd been followed her the entire night, keeping to the shadows, remaining unnoticed, but all the while his eyes had never left her.

He'd watched her laugh, dance and get hit on by about ten guys. He'd refrained from divulging his presence even at bar number three when some shitfaced college kid dared to put his paws on her waist. He'd been two seconds away from storming his way through the crowded place and pummeling the kid into unconsciousness. But Leila did his dirty job for him and solved the issue by effectively clocking him in the face.

After some confusion, the boy had walked away with a new shiner.

Now Dean went on full alert, recognizing the immediate tension irradiating from Amy's body as the brawny man with the receding hairline approached her. He readily pushed himself off the wall he'd been leaning on and was about to cross the bar but halted when he saw Michael join the couple.

~…….~

Zach inched closer and Amy shrunk in her seat.

"Do you wanna danc-" Zach's proposition was cut short when her eyes fell on the tall doctor.

"Michael!"

Relief washed over her.

"Ames." He greeted.

Amy could swear she heard a snarl coming from Zach; it sent a chill down her spine.

"I see my kid sister's still vertical, wobbly, but vertical."

"I tried to keep her away from the liquor, but you know her…" She flinched at the jitteriness in her voice.

Thankfully, Michael still possessed the perceptive skills of an amoeba and her state of unrest remained unnoticed by him.

"I just hope she's still able to walk down the aisle in a straight line tomorrow." He commented, eyeing his sister clumsily swirling her hips against her husband to be.

"Yeah…"

There was an awkward silence between the three, one evident only to Amy and Zach, who was clearly peeved with the interruption.

Unable to bear the discomfort Amy blurted:

"Do you wanna dance?"

"What?" Michael frowned.

"Dance?" She repeated.

'_Com' on, com' on, keep up Michael.'_ She urged him.

God, for such a brilliant mind he was so socially daft sometimes.

"For old times' sake?" She tried.

"We never-"

"Let's go." She didn't give him a chance to protest and hastily shoved him towards the dance floor, safely away from Zach, who looked like he was about to explode.

Once engulfed by the bustling mob, she locked her hands behind on the nape of his neck and began swaying against him in earnest, making sure Zach could see.

"What are you doing?" Michael questioned rigidly.

"Dancing."

"Are you drunk?"

She could punch him at that moment, but instead growled out her frustration:

"No. I'm the designated driver."

At his skeptical look, she shook her head and commanded:

"Just try and relax, will you? It's just a dance."

He wasn't convinced, but obeyed anyway.

~……~

Her hips glided smoothly against Michael's. He'd never seen her dance before, but somehow he'd always suspected she'd be damn good at it. After the stormy night they'd shared in the Impala he'd been pretty much sold on the idea and now he had visible proof of it.

She might be a tight ass, but boy could she move said ass.

The skimpy little black dress she wore wasn't helping matters either.

'_I need a drink_.' He promptly decided.

"Whiskey." He said to the bartender.

Another glance her way made him reassess his order:

"Make it a double."

The man behind the counter barely had time to place the shot glass in front of the eager customer before it was downed down and:

"Another."

~……~

Michael's hands traced up and down her spine.

"How long are you staying?" He questioned.

"I have to leave tomorrow." She replied scanning the bar for Zach, instead she found...

"Dean…"

"Amy?"

Her eyes snapped up at Michael.

"Wha'?"

Her brain was focused on the newly acquired knowledge that Dean was in the bar. Was it a coincidence? Not a chance.

'_That sneaky little bastard.'_

She felt the arms around her tighten and once again met Michael's gaze.

"I said I'm sorry you have to leave so soon."

"Um… yeah, me too."

And her eyes were back on Dean.

He'd probably been trailing after her all night long.

'_Bastard_!'

A shiver raced through her at the idea that he'd been watching her all this time.

Somewhere in her muddled brain she registered that Michael was saying something.

"Huh?"

"Are you ok? Is something wrong?"

"Um… No!" She denied vehemently and forced her body to move to the sultry beat.

The way her knees were wobbling it was near impossible.

Why were her knees wobbling?

"I've really missed you, Ames."

Michael's heartfelt confession fell on deaf ears as Amy stepped back.

"Um… Could you excuse me for a sec?"

He didn't manage to get a word in and just stood there watching her walk away.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39**

"Taking up stalking, are we?" Her voice dripped with acid.

"Amy! Funny running into you here." Dean didn't even put an effort in his attempt to fake surprise.

"Un-believable!" She narrowed her eyes at him and poked an accusing finger in his chest. "You honestly expect me to believe that you haven't been following me around all night?"

She held her breath at the small electric jolt that coursed through her when he caught her prodding finger and held on.

After the initial shock she jerked her hand free of his grasp.

"I can't get one lousy night of fun, can I?"

He simply gulped down his third shot and slouched against the counter, pressing his elbows onto the flat surface to better examine the dance floor.

She glared at him.

"No one made you come over here." He offered dismissively, not bothering to look at her.

Amy was burning wholes into him, but he remained unfazed; at least outwardly. On the inside, the picture of her clinging to Michael's neck still caused his insides to turn.

When he didn't say anything she prepared to storm off. The idea of her going back to him snapped Dean into action and he provoked:

"I see you're getting reacquainted with the Doctor Big and Tall."

She whirled on her pumps to face him.

"His name's Michael."

She hadn't denied it.

"Whatever… Do what you gotta do, just make sure you're ready to leave tomorrow. We go to Bobby's and finish this and then you can go back to bumping uglies with your ex." His voice edged on spiteful.

"I'll be ready. Don't worry. No one wants to see this over and done with more than me." She matched his cruelty.

He cockily raised both eyebrows at her.

"Wanna bet?"

She twisted her mouth as she barked: "Go home, Winchester." And stomped away angrily to keep from punching him.

~……~

She plopped down on the chair with a loud thud.

"What is this? The only bar in Charleston?" Leila questioned and was about to take a generous swig of her drink when Amy snatched it from her hand and greedily guzzled down the entire thing.

Her face scrunched up in disgust almost immediately.

"What _is_ this thing?"

"Don't know." Leila shrugged.

Detecting the condoning look coming from her best friend she quickly added:

"Oh, no! Not you too. I already got Mr. Anal Retentive over there to ruin my fun." Leila tilted her head signaling Michael who was standing a couple of tables away from theirs. "I don't need any patronizing from you too."

Amy shook her head.

"What?" Leila demanded.

"Nothing…" She wasn't in the mood to discuss Michael and Leila's mutual loathing, but the brunette was intent on doing so.

"I don't like him, so sue me."

"Why not? He's a nice guy and a good friend."

"That's exactly the point."

Amy frowned, a little lost.

"He's nice and… good." Leila drawled and feigned a yawn.

"Still failing to see the negative on that one, L."

"He's boring!" Leila exclaimed.

"No, he's not!"

"He's the most predictable guy on the planet. Scrabble is more exciting than he is."

"So he's reliable. That's a good thing." She watched Michael as she spoke. "There's an a certain edge to him… sometimes."

"Edge? What edge? He's a boundless pancake!"

"Huh?"

It was clear Leila already had a few too many umbrella drinks in her system. She was starting her trademark leaps in reasoning and Amy's blood alcohol level wasn't quite high enough for her to be able to keep up.

"Flat as a pancake…? No edges… hence my use of boundless?"

"Oh! That was a little farfetched even for you."

"Girl, we need to get some booze in you."

"No, thank you." Amy muttered drawing small circles on her temples.

"Point is he's nice and reliable, but all the time you two were together I never _once_ heard you talking about him the way you talk about…"

Amy's fingers halted their rubbing and she waited for her to complete her sentence. Instead, Leila pointedly sent a sultry look towards the bar. The young doctor followed her gaze and zeroed in on Dean, still spaciously lounging against the counter. She quickly averted her eyes when he caught her.

She dropped her hands and enquired:

"I'm supposed to talk about my boyfriend with repugnance and exasperation?"

"I see you're still a big fan of denial…" Leila puffed mockingly.

"Denial? I'm not denying anything-"

"A-ha!" Leila cried out triumphantly.

"What a-ha?"

"So you admit it!"

"Admit what? What's to admit?"

"Come on, Amy. I was drunk, not passed out."

A screeching alarm went off in Amy's head and she hurried to change the subject. She literally grabbed her chance when the waiter placed Leila's new drink in front of her. Taking the glass before the brunette could even reach for it, she said:

"I'm cutting you off. You're not making any sense."

"Amy… no one forgets their first-"

"That was it! End of conversation!"

"Why are you so afraid-"

"I'm not!" Her eyes lit up with an eclectic combination of fear and rage. "I just don't want to talk about that, ok?"

"Ok." Leila relented under the intensity of Amy's glare.

The two sat there for a couple of minutes, thankful for being in a bustling bar, with roaring music because, otherwise, they would have been stuck in an uncomfortable moment of silence.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up." Leila finally spoke.

"It's ok." Amy replied.

There was still an edge to her tone though.

"So… You and Michael? Are you getting back together?"

Amy snapped at that:

"What is it with you people?! Two ex's have one lousy dance and everyone thinks something's going on."

"Oh, thank God!"

"I get it Leila. You don't like him."

"I'm not the one who has to like him."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"You were never in love with him, Ames." There was a sincerity in Leila's voice that hit home for Amy. "I'm not even sure if you were happy."

"You know what? This is turning out to be one depressing bachelorette party."

Leila couldn't agree more.

"I know. It's three in the morning, I'm still sober-"

"You're not sober, L." Amy assured her.

"Well, I'm not drunk either… and the only scrumptious guy in the bar is off limits."

Once again Amy followed Leila's gaze to land on Dean.

There was an instant knot in her gut at the prospect of her friend hooking up with the hunter. The annoying reminder that she wasn't indifferent to him spurred her into action.

"I'm gonna say this slowly, so that _maybe_, just maybe, it might register somewhere in there." She paused for dramatic effect and then continued: "I am not now… nor have I ever been… interested in Dean Winchester."

"Really?" Leila's voice oozed sarcasm.

Amy was one stubborn woman.

"So if I were to walk up to him right now and hit on him, you wouldn't mind?"

"Nope."

Not at all, she didn't care, and no she didn't want to gouge out Leila's eyes… Nope! Not at all.

"Not even a bit?"

Amy shook her head emphatically and Leila saw a challenge.

"Ok, then. See ya!"

Oh crap! She actually did it! She was walking up to him and… Why was he smiling at her? What-? Why?

"Bitch!" The word was out of her mouth without previous warning.

"Excuse me?"

Amy jerked back to see Michael now sitting where Leila had been ten seconds before.

"H-hey." She stuttered taken by surprised.

"Everything ok? You left in a hurry back there."

"Um… yeah… I-I…" She searched for an excuse. "I had to go to the bathroom." She blurted ineptly.

Michael nodded awkwardly and the two sat together.

"She's having fun." Amy began intent on ignoring the urge to check on Leila.

"Who? Nancy?" Michael eyed his kid sister giggling at something Sid had said.

"The whole point of a bachelor party is ruin but at least she's enjoying herself."

"You on the other hand..." He trailed off.

"What? I'm having fun…" Amy insisted.

"Yeah, buckets of it."

"I'm just tired… from being on the road."

She couldn't help it. Before she knew it her eyes were on the talking couple at the bar. Leila was laughing out loud, slanting towards him, doing that outlandish hair flipping motion she loved so much.

"You gonna tell me what the deal is with you and Dean?"

That jolted her attention back to Michael.

"W-what?"

"I thought you couldn't stand the guy. Why are you travelling across country with him?" Michael wondered.

"We just… Um…"

She really hated lying to him, but what as she supposed to say? Wiggle her hand in front of Michael and tell him that thanks to that little ring she'd kept Dean from going to hell and as thanks for her efforts her soul was now stuck to his? And what about Lilith? How was she going to open up that can of worms to the overly rational man sitting next to her?

He'd probably want to commit her to the psych ward on the spot. So she opted for:

"… have unfinished business."

'_And there you have it, ladies and gentleman, the understatement of the year. Thank you very much!'_

"Oh!" Michael muttered.

'_Oh, what oh? There no oh! There is nothing in the remote vicinity __of oh when it comes to me and him! Nothing!'_

"No… It's not like that, Michael. It's just… business. I have no romantic interest in him whatsoever."

'_How many times am I going to have to say that?'_

'_Until you convince yourself, maybe?'_

"Shut up!" Her inner dialogue slipped out of her mouth and Michael furrowed his brow. "S-sorry!"

She gave him a jittery smile and repeated her favorite excuse:

"Tired…"

It didn't seem to persuade Michael.

~……~

Leila smiled when she caught the look on Dean's face. He was good... but not slick enough to slip by her the sideways glance directed at Amy and Michael.

"They're just talking… for now." She informed him.

"What?"

Great, another denial groupie!

Leila chuckled and Dean picked up his shot glass uncomfortably.

"You don't strike me as the kind of guy to just sit by and do nothing while another guy is making a move on your girl."

His throat contracted powerfully and he choked on the whiskey. After a colorful coughing fit he managed to get his act together and strangle out:

"You talking about Carrington?"

"Yeah, the girl you've checked on five times in the last… um…" She looked at her wristwatch. "… five minutes."

"It's not what you think, sweetheart. Just keeping an eye on her. It's my job." he guaranteed.

"Riiight."

He set his mouth in a straight line and afforded another look at the table. He noticed that Michael had inched closer to her. Without a word he stood up to his full height and left.

~…….~

Her mind barely registered the end of Michael's sentence when she failed to find Dean or Leila at the bar.

Where were they? Had they left together? Were they-?

She doubled over at the sudden sickness in her stomach and the powerful need to hurl took over.

"I gotta go."

She was hardly able to announce before zipping to the bathroom, leaving Michael behind to gawk at her rapidly retreating form.

She froze when she reached the dark hallway and saw Dean punching the condom machine.

At the prickling feeling on the back on his neck he turned and their eyes met.


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40**

She covered the distance of the long aisle with fretful, little steps while rummaging through her bag.

"Borrowed… blue…"

"Amy?"

She halted and whirled around to face Sid.

"Hey." She greeted warmly, wrapping her arms around him and for a moment forgetting the cause for her unrest. "You nervous?"

"No."

Her smile grew wider when she noticed his hands fussily tugging at one of his sleeves.

"I-Is she ready?" He stuttered.

"Just waiting for me to get her some stuff." Amy warmly rubbed his arm and felt the rigidity in body dwindle. "By the way, do you happen to know where I can find something old? I got borrowed and blue covered." She scrunched up her nose at his widening eyes. "I know! I suck at this whole maid of honor thing." She admitted in defeat. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"I don't think any of us did. What time did you get home?"

"Around five-ish." Her eyes scanned the crowded church.

Sid frowned. That would have given her plenty of time to recover. He knew Amy well enough to know that a couple of hours of sleep were more than sufficient to get her batteries recharged. She'd had a lot of practice during her internship to learn how to cram up as much rest as possible into the shortest amount of time.

What he was unaware of was the fact that even though she'd gotten home, put Amy to bed, showered and slipped under her covers, she hadn't managed to conquer sleep.

At the slightest noise her eyes would zoom in on the door and every single time they'd failed to see her roommate sneaking into the bedroom.

Leila hadn't gotten home until eight in the morning, right about the same time Amy had set her alarm clock to.

Her finger worried the thin band around her middle finger.

That was old, maybe she could give _that_ to Nancy.

"_I'm sure Leila has enough of those to go at least a couple of rounds…" Amy teethed out bitterly resuming her snotty trudged down the darken hall of the bar and haughtily walking around him intent on having the last word._

_Every stiletto punctuated step felt like a dry punch to his gut. It brought out the viciousness in him._

"_I don't know…" He provoked maliciously. "That one looks like she could give the energizer bunny a run for his money."_

_She faltered in her stride at his reply but the sting was scarcely noticeable in her demeanor as she brazenly pinned him with a disdainful gaze:_

"_Now let's just hope _you_ can keep up. Fingers crossed! Don't want that little problem of yours coming up." She eyed him up and down before jutting her chin up at him and concluding: "Or should I say _not_ come up?"_

_His lips thinned out as he squared his jaw._

"_Sweetheart… I'm over _that_ little problem." His stare travelled along her body emphasizing the double meaning of that short sentence._

Her fingers traced the column of her throat and she felt it spasm at the fresh memory.

"Here, give her this."

Amy saw the ragged baseball card in his hand.

"It's my lucky card. I've had it since I was five."

Her heart softened at the expression on the young man's face.

Why couldn't she fall for someone like him? Someone sweet, loving… someone that didn't drive her mad, someone that couldn't cut her open with a simple smirk. Why did she have to fall for…

'_Wo__manizing, cheating little man-whores like…'_

As if on cue, her eyes picked out Dean from the lively, dressed up throng crowding the small church.

A paralyzing tightness seized in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

"This will do. Thanks." She by the time she finished she'd already vanished behind one of the pillars lining the aisle.

~…….~

He'd had enough!

Almost two hours of being crammed in a church, exchanging fleeting but deafening looks with the maid of honor, while having the incessant droning of some tedious priest as background noise had taken its toll on his psyche.

The cherry had been placed on top of that stale cake when he'd figured out who was the best man. He should have known, with his luck, of course it would be Michael.

The tuxedo wearing penguin, that was Dean's latest endearing term for Michael, leaned in to whisper something in Amy's ear and she giggled softly. Dean's subsequent growl put him on the receiving end of two chastising glares and one annoying shush coming from a couple of old ladies sitting on the bench he stood next to.

One dirty look from Dean and the hags hastily averted their attention back to the altar just in time two see the young couple be pronounced husband and wife.

She lost track of Dean in the chaos that broke out at the end of the ceremony and let herself be dragged into the back room of the church for the signing of the paperwork that would make the union official.

~…….~

"Are you ever going to talk to me again? Or are you gonna keep avoiding me?"

Amy turned to see Leila crossing the grassy field to meet her.

"Why would you think I'm avoiding you?" She questioned letting her eyes roam the various tables spread across the Hamilton's luscious gardens.

"Cause a couple of grunts and a muttered '_good_ _morning'_ don't constitute an actual conversation." Leila replied.

"I've been busy. I _am_ the maid of honor after all." She tried to keep her voice steady and unfazed.

Leila exhaled.

"I'm sorry, Amy. I didn't mean to…" She struggled with her apology; she didn't have much practice in that area. "I thought-"

What little self-discipline Amy had been clinging to crumbled and she snapped:

"No, Leila! You didn't think! That's your problem. You just… do."

"And your problem is you over think everything!" Leila snapped back.

"I-"

The brunette didn't give her a chance. She was in full venting mode now:

"You're a control freak! You're obsessed with anticipating every single second of your life and the _moment_ things go off course, the moment something comes along that isn't in your perfect little schedule, you lose it! You go into this insane mental juggling act in a pathetic attempt to make everything right and manageable again and when you fail, you either ignore it or push it away. But you know what, Amy? There are some people you can't ignore or push away, no matter how hard you try! And there are _definitely_ some things you _can't_ control!"

"Really? I never thought that keeping your legs crossed would pose such a monumental challenge for you."

The moment she said it, she regretted it. But it was out and she couldn't take it back. All Amy could do was stand there and watch as her best friend's eyes grew glassy, her voice faltering as she choked out:

"You can be a heartless bitch sometimes, Amy…"

"L… L! I didn't mean- L!" She called out, but by the time Amy's feet decided to cooperate and start moving Leila was already gone "Shit!" She cursed, running a worried hand over her forehead. "Idiot!"

Glancing down at her empty glass she was pretty sure it was time for a hefty refill; one with plentiful amounts of mind numbing alcohol.

~…….~

Even though she didn't give a rat's ass what the guests would think about a young woman downing down a glass full of vodka, she decided it was best if she didn't order her drink at the bar set up in the middle of the wedding reception.

Thankfully, years of dating their firstborn gave Amy ample knowledge of where the Hamiltons stashed their liquor, namely the bar in Michael Senior's library.

She let herself into the room lined with dark wood paneling and perfectly stacked books and made a straight line for the bar.

She poured a generous amount of the translucent liquid into her glass and was about to take a bulky gulp when:

"We travel nine hundred miles so you can come to this wedding and you're hanging out in the library?"

"Not now, Winchester." She didn't bother looking at him; simply tossed back her head and took in the entire content of the glass.

Something was off. Had she and Michael had a fight?

"Too bad. We gotta go. Sam called. He's figured out a way-"

His body stiffened when she invaded his personal space and was suddenly in his face.

"Did you not hear me? Not. Now." She bit out.

At a standoff, the two glared at each other.

"Look, whatever tragic lover's quarrel you and penguin doc got going on is going to have to wait."

"Penguin doc?"

"The George Clooney wannabe."

He was referring to Michael.

"Michael and I are fine." She assured him.

He made sure to hide his disappointment from her as he stated matter-of-factly:

"We're going."

"Do you actually expect me to leave in the middle of the wedding reception just because, out of the blue, you decided we just _have_ to go?" She cockily narrowed her eyes at him.

"No." He shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm sure you'll bitch about it. I'll say let's go, you'll bitch some more and it'll end with you being dragged out of here and being neatly tucked away in the trunk of my car."

"You seriously gotta come up with a new threat, Winchester." She scoffed.

"What's it gonna be?" He asked tapping his foot impatiently. "Cause I was really hoping we'd skip the whole flinging you over my shoulder part. I got a kink in my back from last night."

Her jaw muscles twitched at that, but it was the only outward sign of the effect his insinuations had on her as she coolly replied:

"Rough night, huh?"

He put on a proud smirk for her.

Unexpectedly, she leaned in to whisper calmly:

"I'll tell you what. How about you and Leila go upstairs for round two and let me enjoy what's left of this wedding?"

Amy topped off her magnificent show of nonchalance by letting out a resounding puff and walking around him.

She gasped when, without warning, he yanked her arm forcing her to spin around and face him.

"Hey!" She protested feeling a little woozy under the toxic combination of the sudden motion and alcohol.

"We're leaving." He teethed out.

"You know…" She began sarcastically. "…repeating something over and over again doesn't make it come true. You know that, right?"

She amazed even herself.

Considering the furious turmoil boiling up in her it was astonishing how she could pull off such a detached demeanor.

"Get your things and let's go." His voice was low and his grip tight, keeping her close to his chest.

"Oh, come on…" She even managed to add a half pout.

But she could tell that this act wasn't going to last much longer. The rage was starting to seep into her voice. Every time she mentioned Leila her brain would supply her with colorful images of her and Dean doing…

She pushed back the vivid pictures but the next words that came out of her mouth were charged with barely controlled spite:

"Leila is going to be _so_ disappointed."

He stared down at her.

She had to get away from him. Now!

"Ames?"

Michael was right on cue.

With a sharp jerk she freed herself and the two turned to see Michael standing at the door.

"I was just showing Winchester here the library."

The doctor gave them a dubious once over.

No matter how socially challenged he was, the tension between Amy and Dean was unmistakable, even to him. But he played along. Truth was he didn't want to face it either.

"What do you think?"

Dean ignored his question and replied with one of his own.

"Do you mind giving us a second… _Michael_?"

Amy jumped into action at the thought of being stuck in a room alone with Dean for another second.

"He loved it! Isn't it time for the toast or something?" She scurried away from the hunter before he could grab her again.

"Yeah…" Michael muttered giving Dean one last sideways glance before following Amy out of the library.

When the two reached the hallway Amy quickly excused herself:

"I'll be right there." She forced a smile as she inched towards the lavatory. "Make up check."

"Don't take too long."

She nodded and disappeared into the restroom. Slamming the door shut, she slanted against it, trying to get her bearings, trying to get that damn knot in her stomach to loosen up just a bit so she could breathe a little easier.

Swallowing hard she dragged herself to the sink and, pressing her palms into it, she inhaled deeply.

The sound of a knob jiggling caused her to yell out frustrated:

"Occupied! I'll be-Ah!"

She suddenly found herself pinned against the sink, her lower back and the inside of her wrists pressed into the cold porcelain. She was staring up at glaring green eyes.

"Did you fuck him?" Dean demanded out of the blue.

The barely contained rage in his eyes sent a chill down her spine, but her reply was uncensored, instant and trademark Amy:

"Did you fuck with her?"

"No." It was flat, concise and to the point and it made her breath hitch.

She gulped and her next question was hardly above a whisper:

"Why not?"

Oh, no. She wasn't going to weasel her way out of this one. He was done playing games. He closed his eyes and searched for much needed control. When his lids opened again, he leaned into her, thinning the already short distance between their faces. His jaw clenched and he tried again as calmly as he could muster:

"Did you…. fuck him?"

Amy's pulse raced frantically under the toxic combination of his proximity and his scrutinizing gaze.

She swallowed one last time before answering truthfully:

"No."

That was all either needed to hear and the two practically lunged at one another; their mouth crashing for a rushed and gluttonous kiss.

Author's Note: Yes, yes, I'm evil! I know… I'll try to get the next one out as soon as possible. ;) But at least the OST is solved… well partially anyway.


	41. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41**

A hard, frenzied hand hiked up her dress to hook behind her thigh. With a swift tug he hoisted her up against him and plopped her onto the lavatory. The sudden shift, coupled with freezing marble on her exposed skin knocked the wind out of her. But her gasp was muffled by his mouth and the crashing sound of soap bottles and cleansing cream containers toppling either to the floor or the sink as they made room for her on the flat surface.

He pushed himself between her thighs and bunched her dress further up her body, over her hips and around her waist. Pressing into her, he wrapped his arms around her and hauled her closer all the while never abandoning her mouth.

Her eagerness matched his as she alternated between biting and sucking at his lips. She yanked at the collars of his shirt with one hand and fisted a generous amount of hair with the other, rustling it and causing it to stick out comically.

They pulled and pushed at each other's clothes, which were clearly in the way, and their shared moans and greedy pants for air echoed in the tiled room.

It was only at the second string of tapping that the two registered the knocking coming from the door.

"Amy, we gotta go."

She froze and tore her mouth away at the sound of Michael's voice coming from the hall. But Dean wasn't ready to stop. If anything, hearing her ex brought out the possessiveness in him.

She was his!

'_Mine!'_ The primal thought commanded his actions now.

Brusquely, he locked his hand under her left ear and directed her gaze straight at him.

"Everyone's waiting for the toast."

Her stunned eyes met Dean's for a second before she crashed her mouth into his again.

Her hips jerked forward. He groaned and gladly replicated her movement, sending a sharp jolt of lust through her.

"Amy? Are you in there?"

Dean was trailing hard, open mouth kisses down the column of her neck and she gasped out a cursed:

"Shit…"

She shook her head and blinked a couple of times, trying to get the crazed swarm of thoughts and crushing emotions to quiet down in her hollowed mind just long enough for her to regain control of her voice.

"Yea-" She stopped herself when it came out strained and breathless.

She swallowed hard and went to try again. When she did, Dean's hand wormed itself between their pelvises and all that came out was a strangled cry.

"Amy! Are you ok?"

Michael sounded worried.

'_Shit!__ I can't believe I'm doing this.'_

She had to stop.

Her lidded eyes snapped open when her panties were unceremoniously shoved to the side, out of the way, and she felt his hand on her wet entrance.

"Wait…" She panted.

His response to her plea? A thumb drawing wide circles around her clit.

Her nails dug into his neck.

In the meantime, the knocking was becoming increasingly more alarming, as was Michael's tone.

"Amy! Answer me!"

"I- Ah…" She mewled when Dean's skilled finger pushed inside her.

It was slow and probing at first, but the second it found the small spot it was searching for it became unyielding. Roughly, it moved in and out of her, hitting its precise mark every single time, making her entire body shudder and every single time… it made her want to scream.

"Amy!"

"I'm fine!" She finally cried out.

She felt Dean smirk against her chest, between bites and licks, and she wanted to smother him.

Instead, she pathetically thrust her pelvis towards his hands.

It was obvious she didn't stand a chance at stopping this. So, in her dazed state, she figured that the best way was to get this over with as quickly as possible.

When she slapped his hand away from her he was ready to grab her again.

Dean was shocked by her next move. It was fast, hard and unexpected and he was faintly aware of a zipper coming undone, demanding fingers gripping him, the feel of something slippery and warm and then-

"Jesus Christ!" He choked out when, with one sharp shove of her hips he was buried inside her to the hilt.

She didn't give him or herself a second to adjust rough assault. With one hand on his shoulder, the other holding onto the sink as if for dear life, she started repeatedly and impatiently bucking forward.

He watched wide eyed and gasping as her head lolled back and her auburn locks threatened to escape the impressive hairdo atop her head with every hard, eager thrust.

"Are you sure, Amy?"

Michael's voice helped him escape his initial shock. He regrouped and the battle for dominance between them resumed.

With his fingers under her bunched up dress, digging into the flesh of her ass, he matched her thrust for thrust, slamming into her over and over again, keeping his eyes locked with hers for every single push.

Stubbornly, neither was willing to back down.

"I'll be…" Pant. "Right…" Glare. "…Out."

Dean made sure to punctuate each of her words with a firm shove into her and by the end of her sentence he could feel her drenched and tighter than ever.

"Amy… Is something wrong?"

'_God dam it, Michael! Just go away!'_

As if he could read her thoughts Dean smirked again.

The sly smile quickly crumbled when she purposefully squeezed him with her inner muscles.

His forehead dropped to rest on her heaving chest and he burrowed into it, struggling to keep from coming. She wasn't going to win this one.

'_No way.'_

Once recovered, he hastily yanked at the straps of her dress, exposing her left breast. Gruffly palming the soft mound, his mouth sloppily began worrying every inch of flesh it had access to.

His hold on her waist stiffened and jerked, hauling her into him, forcing her to arch back, bringing her breast closer to his face.

Somehow, in the midst of her mental haze she remembered Michael's unanswered question.

"Nothing…" Gulp. "…nothing's wrong."

'_Like hell it isn't! You're having sex with a man you supposedly despise in some random bathroom- Actually! Hold that! It's not even random! It's your ex-boyfriend's place and he's standing two feet away. How's that for wrong?'_ He brain chastised her.

Dean's tongue on her nipple made her forget the scolding.

They continued to buck and heave together and he was unrelenting.

"Are you sure…?"

Every sound coming from the other side of the door served to fuel his need to have her.

His! She was his. No one else's and definitely not that…

'_Self-righteous, pompous, arrogant son of a b-'_

"Michael…"

At the name of her ex-lover, Dean squeezed her breast harder, to the point that it almost hurt, and avariciously suckled at her skin until it was tinged with angry red marks.

She made another attempt to speak between thrusts, greedy licks and nibbles.

"Michael…"

Dean's head snapped up at that. He pinned her with his gaze and slammed into her one more time before freezing and growling:

"Mine."

In any other situation, Amy would have immediately comeback with some smartass reply. Instead, she simply stared up at him, paralyzed, drawing strangled breaths.

"Amy, I'm coming in!"

"No!" She yelled, her attention never leaving Dean. "I-I'm fine." She managed to say.

"Mine." Dean hissed again.

She didn't know it, but she was nodding her agreement. It seemed to calm him down, to sooth him, and he resumed the movement of his hips with long, sleeks strokes that made her lids grow heavy.

What began as a paced, torturous rhythm, quickly progressed into a fast and hard tempo again and soon he was pounding into her unrelentingly, driving in and pulling out only to slam right back in.

"Mine…"

Every time he said it, it made her want to shove harder and faster. It just wasn't enough. More… she needed more… more of this, more of him, more…

His hands nestled her head and his mouth was on her again his tongue pushed in, searching and demanding.

"Mine…" Thrust… "Mine…" Push…

Her face readily bobbed affirmatively against his kiss, reassuring him and scaring the hell out of her. But she couldn't stop. It was like she was on autopilot.

He pounded into her almost obsessively, while she held onto his hips for leverage and propelled her pelvis forward one last time before it took her over. He swallowed her smothered cry and added one of his own at the feel of her walls coming down around him; her muscles fluttered, squeezing him until…

He slammed into her one last time, her body jolted and that was it – everything around him seemed to dissipate… everything except her and the wave of pleasure that rushed through his body.

~……~

"Do you really have to leave? Can't you just stay for like… a couple of hours?" Nancy whined.

"Sorry. I really do." Amy apologized for the umpteenth time that evening.

It seemed like it was the only thing she knew how to do after…

"But I promise to come see you after your honeymoon." This was Amy's peace offering.

"You better."

"I promise." She assured her, giving her surrogate sister a bear hug.

Letting go, she pointed an accusing finger at Sid.

"Take care of her."

"What else have I been doing all these years?"

"Hey!" Nancy protested.

Amy smiled.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

Taking a deep breath, Amy turned to Michael and she prayed that her cheeks weren't as flushed as she felt them.

Ever since she'd clumsily stepped out of that bathroom she could barely look at him without being seized by an overwhelming sense of guilt and shame and a desperate need to apologize.

Saying that the toast had been torture was a euphemism. Having to hold that glass up high, under the scrutiny of every guest in the huge mansion including Dean, who skulked under the shadow of a large tree staring at her throughout the whole ordeal, was…

She shook the memory away when it made her stomach wrench and resumed her goodbyes.

"Bye, Michael." There was something in the way she said it.

Something definitive.

As if it was the last time she'd see him.

"Goodbye Amy. Take care."

One awkward hug later and she was scurrying down the driveway toward the revved up Impala.

Dean didn't say a word when she sat down in the passenger seat. He simply stepped on the gas and they were on their way to South Dakota.

AN: I know this was a small chapter, but I didn't want to leave you guys waiting with the nasty cliffhanger. Hope you enjoyed Dean and Amy's bathroom romp. ;)


	42. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42**

The first six hundred miles of the trip were spent in absolute dread, with Amy praying to whatever gods there were that Dean Winchester would refrain from bringing _it_ up. After eight hours of silent driving though, with her wish fully granted, Amy's reasoning seemed to shift.

Engulfed by darkness, with the Impala racing at asphalt devouring speeds on the motorway, she began to wonder…

'_Why?'_

Why had he so willingly avoided the subject?

After settling in the front seat she'd prepared herself for the inevitable verbal jab. When it didn't come, she thought he was simply trying to rattle her. She braced herself and waited. She even avoided asking him to stop for a smoke, but after they'd crossed the border into North Carolina her nicotine craving got the best of her and she'd relented. To her surprise, he'd simply nodded, brought the car to a complete stop allowing her to exit, and five minutes later they were back on the road.

It had been exactly the same with the next six stops, including one for the necessary beverages and snacks pickup and two toilet breaks.

He took exit 211B for Louisville and continued to push the Chevy forward.

'_Why?'_

She wondered again, sneaking a quick peek his way. His eyes were on the road and didn't budge.

She checked her watch. It was around midnight.

"Aren't we going to stop?" Her voice seemed booming in the hushed, almost claustrophobic space.

Without a word, he checked the rearview mirror and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Hurry up." It was the most he'd said to her in five hours.

When she didn't make a move to leave he looked at her inquisitively.

"I meant to find a place to spend the night."

"You tired?"

She furrowed her brow.

"You wanna drive through the night?"

He shrugged.

She pondered for a moment and then:

"Fine by me."

That settled, he returned to the road.

~……..~

"_What are you doing in my room, Winchester?"_

_Dean jolted up straight at the snide voice coming from behind him. He hastily attempted to stuff the item into the pocket of his jeans unnoticed before he assumed a nonchalant demeanor and turned to face her. He wasn't fast enough though. She'd caught the sly move._

_Without a word, she stomped the short distance between them and haughtily pinning him with her gaze demanded._

"_What did you take?"_

_His lower lip jutted out innocently and his shoulders came together for a phony, clueless shrug. That didn't stick either. She glanced over his shoulder; her eyes growing wide when she spotted the opened drawer._

"_Did you…?" She was in shock._

_Her underwear? He was going through her…_

_Her gaze snapped to the tiny piece of white lace accusingly sticking out from his jeans._

"_You took my-?"_

_She snatched the item to reveal her favorite and rather private thong._

_He pushed back the urge to gulp and stood up proudly. He wasn't about to lose face or display any hint of embarrassment. He was intent on playing it cool._

"_So what?"_

_Shock gradually morphed into confusion, as her brain tried to figure out just why he was snooping through her underwear. What possible use could he have for-?_

_Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the image that flashed in her mind's eye._

"_You're not… you're not gonna-"_

_She couldn't even say it - renowned womanizer, Dean Winchester had a cross-dressing fetish? That was just… wrong!_

"_I'm a guy!" He shrugged once again._

_Nope, not embarrassed at all! Or mortified, or humiliated! Nope! He was proud of his horniness._

"_Exactly!" She pointed out. "Why would you want to wear-"_

"_What?!"_

_It was Dean's turn to sport the flabbergasted look. It seemed to be all the rage now._

"_You think I want to wear it?!!"_

"_Yeah! Why else would you…?"_

_As she spoke her brain gradually supplied her with an alternative and possibly even more nauseating explanation._

_He could see realization dawning on her._

"_Ew! That's disgusting!"_

"_Once again, if I may point out – boy, here! What am I supposed to do? I'm stuck in a house with no decent…" He searched the words carefully, trying to come up with a proper euphemism for porn. When he came out empty he went with, what else but: "…porn. Sometimes a guy needs some visual aid."_

"_I'm still sticking with… Eeeew!" Her face contorted in revulsion. "And if __**I**__ might add, you're sixteen. For you a blank spot on the wall is hot."_

"_Whatever! Can I still borrow that?"_

"_What?! No!"_

"_Why not?" He whined._

"_I'm not even going to try and explain it to you. You're obviously demented." She gruffly pushed passed him and returned her thong back to its rightful place, before closing her drawer with a loud bang._

"_Well, what am I supposed to do?"_

"_I don't know! Go look at passing cows, I really don't care, just stay out of my room, you perv!"_

_He took offense to that! The way he saw it, he was a teenage kid, it was only natural for him to want to…_

"_Perv?!"_

"_Yep! That's short for pervert, which is what you are. Now, out!"_

"_You know, not all of us have taken a vow of chastity like you, Carrington." He snorted._

"_Chastity?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Because I don't go around stealing other people's underwear to-to…?"_

"_You can't even say it." He smugly narrowed his eyes at her and his lips tugged sideways for a mocking smirk. "I bet you're still a virgin."_

_Her blood raced furiously, her anger paralyzing her for a moment, and all she could do was glare up at him._

"_I bet you've never even gone to second base with a guy."_

_He studied the flush burning on her cheeks and caught something other than rage in her eyes._

"_Oh, definitely not second base."_

"_I have to!" She lied badly._

_He read her like an open book and slowly came to realize:_

"_Carrington? Have you even kissed a guy?"_

_Her reply came too soon and too fumbled:_

"_Of course I have!" _

_Her attempt at casual was throttled when she dropped her gaze._

"_Jesus!" He exclaimed stunned out of his wits._

_Amy Carrington had never been kissed. Ever! How was that possible? She was a little too on the skinny side for him but she was still gorgeous. How?_

_Her face was burning up. Oh this was too good!_

_She snapped under his astonished gawking._

"_What?"_

"_Nothing. I-I'm just… I never figured anyone could..."_

_His eyes travelled up and down her smaller form and she prayed for the earth to open up under her feet and swallow her up._

"_So you never…?"_

_Her lips pursed in barely contained wrath._

"_Not even a little peck?" _

"_So what?!" She assumed a defensive stance. "I don't know what the big deal is anyway."_

"_You're fifteen!" He noted._

"_So?!"_

"_Are you gay?"_

_The question seemed to come out of nowhere._

"_What? No!"_

"_So why haven't you-"_

_She promptly cut him off:_

"_Just forget it!"_

_When she tried to walk passed him he stepped into her path, effectively trapping her between his body and the dresser._

_His head tilted to the side and he leaned into her a bit. She immediately scoured back._

"_You're not curious?"_

_His tone was low and completely foreign to her. The few interactions they had consisted mainly in snide remarks or one-liner jabs._

"_About what?"_

"_What it feels like."_

_Her stomach fluttered, but she kept her eyes on him insolently._

"_No."_

"_Not even…" His gaze dropped to her mouth for a second. "…little a bit."_

_She swallowed._

_Oh, god! Was he going to kiss her? Was this going to be her first kiss? And of all people… Dean Winchester?_

"_No."_

"_You know… I'd be more than willing to…"_

_Her palm was flat on his chest and she promptly blurted: "No, thank you."_

_She tried to quickly weasel her way around him and just when she thought she was in the clear a hand gripped her arm. Her body whirled and there it was – her first kiss._

~……~

She jolted out of her reverie to find herself riding shotgun in his car.

"Where are…" She cleared her groggy throat and rubbed her eyes.

As her heartbeat slowly returned to a regular and steady rhythm she tried again:

"Where are we?"

"We just passed Saint Louis."

"Missouri?"

"There another Saint Louis I don't know about?" He replied with a steely grip on the wheel.

His eyes were bloodshot and it was clear he was straining to keep them open.

"Did you sleep?"

"No."

"Did you stop?"

"Once. Nature called." He answered soberly.

Her heart sank but her voice came out smooth, with just a hint of sarcasm.

"Wow, you really want to get to Bobby's!"

He looked over at her for the first time. Her face was pale, with the exception of two pinkish smudges over her high cheekbones, her hair was ruffled and her eyes narrowed from slumber.

"You don't?"

A spasm took over her throat under his inspection.

"Of course, I do." She puffed.

And his gaze faced forward once again.

"You've been driving for fourteen hours straight. Maybe you should get some rest."

"I'm fine."

"I'm sure you are, but I'm kinda fond of having all four limbs attached and fully functional, so please let's just stop somewhere and…"

She trailed off when he brought the car to stop by the side of the road and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"What are you doing?"

"You can drive, right?" He questioned and her jaw dropped to the floor.

"Come again?"

"You drive while I get some shut eye. Just for a couple of hours. It's all I need."

"You're letting me drive this bucket of…" The glare he gave her made her rephrase. "This car?"

He nodded.

"This car?" She paused. "With me? Behind the wheel?"

Another nod.

Her frown grew deeper.

"Are you feeling ok?"

"I could use some Z's right about now, but… Yeah." He replied like it was the most natural thing in the world.

When she continued to gawk at him as if he'd grown a second head he sighed and grumbled:

"I'm not possessed."

"You sure about that?" She responded instantly.

"We got holy water in the backseat. Wanna check?"

"Yes!" She said promptly and reached into his backpack.

When she returned to her seat he growled.

"I've been driving for nine hundred miles. You're not throwing holy water on me."

"How about a sip?" She sheepishly offered handing him the container.

He rolled his eyes and snatched the bottle from her, taking a hefty and loud gulp before shoving it back into her hands.

"Happy?"

"How about another? Just to be sure?"

"Carrington?"

She eyed the bottled suspiciously.

"Maybe's it's gone stale. You know, lost its mojo?"

"The holy water mojo is fine. Now will you get your bony ass behind this wheel so I can get some sleep?"

She was still doubtful but didn't push. Uncomfortably, she stepped out of the car and into the driver's seat.

The minutes ticked by and the car waited for her command.

"It's not gonna bite." He groused.

"No, but you might."

"I'm not the biter in this relationship, remember?"

There was an instant tension in the cramped space the moment the words left his mouth.

Their eyes grew wide for a moment before Dean awkwardly shifted his back to her and prepared to get some rest.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

"What the…?" Sam wondered, cautiously stepping off the porch.

Even engulfed in the darkness of the moonless night he easily recognized the familiar car that came to a halt a few feet away from Bobby's house. What prompted his shocked reaction, however, was the driver.

He squinted, believing that his eyes were certainly playing a trick on him.

Amy was driving?

He checked the passenger seat and, sure enough, found his brother's sleeping form slouched against the door, his mouth dangling open, much like Sam's at that moment.

Both brothers jolted up simultaneously at the sound of a door being slammed shut, Dean's reaction was coupled with a startled yelp.

~……~

The loud clang pierced through his reverie and hurled him unceremoniously into consciousness. He was slightly aware of his own high-pitched shriek as he jostled against the leathered seat. Blinking wildly, he forced his eyes to focus in the shadows, his muddled brain gradually taking in his surrounding, recognizing the familiar dashboard. He frowned at the absence of a stirring wheel in front of him. What was he doing riding shotgun? Who had been driving his baby? Why the hell would he let anyone-- Fear gripped him when he recalled exactly who he'd allowed behind the stirring wheel.

Oh, shit! There'd been a crashing sound, right?

Wide eyed, he rushed out of the car and immediately began inspecting every inch of the hood.

Trembling fingers ran over the metal, trying to pick up any minimal dent that might have been concealed by the darkness.

"Oh, for crying out loud. It's fine!"

He dispensed a quick scowl over his shoulder at Amy's groan.

She and Sam were still locked in a half greeting hug. His younger brother was sporting an inquiring look on his face.

As if he could read Sam's mind, Dean grumbled defensively, feeling the need to explain himself:

"Dude, I was exhausted. I wasn't thinking."

Sam raised his hands in mock surrender at Dean's scolding look.

"I didn't say anything."

Dean's attention was back on the car while Amy lit up a much needed cigarette.

The sound of the lighter alerted Dean and he snapped up straight when the scent of smoke caused his nose to wrinkle. He sniffed the air for a couple of seconds and his probing sense of smell confirmed his suspicions.

"You smoked in my car!" He accused with undertones of a threat punctuated by each ground-eating stomp he took towards her.

He closed the distance between them in a flash and she was forced to strain her neck up in order to meet his glare.

"What? Pff… you're paranoid." She failed miserably at nonchalance.

"I told you not to smoke-"

"I didn't!" She cut him off.

"Oh, yes you did! I can smell it from a mile away."

"Well, what was I supposed to do?" Amy relented. "Drive five hundred miles with no nicotine breaks? You wanted to get here as fast as we could and that's what I did!"

Sam sighed and shook his head. Some things just didn't change. Amy and Dean squabbling was definitely one of them and Sam being stuck in the middle of the clashing duo was another. Ever since he was a kid… nothing changed.

"What the hell's going on out here?"

Bobby's commanding voice drew the attention of the group and temporarily interrupted the fight.

"Hey, Bobby." Amy forced out a smile and grabbed the opportunity to move away from a fuming Dean and greet her old friend.

"Nice to see you again, Amy." He replied giving her a bear hug.

Cocooned in his safe embrace, every single one of her muscles relaxed.

The tension, nonetheless, was back in an instant at sound coming from behind her.

"Bobby."

Though it never failed to happen, she still wasn't used to having all the fibbers in her body contract at the tenor of his voice.

'Shit.'

She cursed inwardly and pulling away from Bobby took a hefty puff of her cigarette.

All three men headed towards the house, leaving Amy behind to enjoy her nicotine trip.

Her eyes roamed across the junkyard and she braced herself against the cold air while taking in the sight of dozens of cars piled up in various rows.

"Will you just put that damn thing out and get your ass in here before it freezes?"

Amy ignored the chill that ran through her and mustering all the contempt she could, clumped her way up the steps of the front porch.

"Tobacco Nazi." She grumbled walking inside.

"Nicotine junkie." He responded in kind.

~….~

After stuffing their faces with Bobby's surprisingly delicious home cooked meal, the topic of conversation shifted inevitably to business. Amy was the one to bring it up.

"So... how are we gonna do this?"

She could swear there was a silent exchange between the testosterone trio sitting across from her at the table, but it went by so surreptitiously she decided to dismiss her suspicion as paranoia.

Sam spoke next:

"We're gonna take the fight to her."

Just one sentence and already Amy didn't like this plan.

"We'll summon her like we did with Ruby and kill her." Dean added with ease, like it was the simplest thing in the world to do.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No." Dean said soberly.

"That's it? That's the master plan? Easy as pie."

"Yep." The older Winchester leaned back in his seat.

Amy ogled all three before turning her pleading eyes to Sam and Bobby for help. Surely they could see this was absurd, but neither uttered a word.

"Ok… what did you guys smoke and why didn't I get some?"

"There is no other way. We can't keep running forever." Sam argued calmly and Amy just gawked at him.

"I know I'm kinda the newbie in this whole thing, but I thought you said that this chick was like the über of über demons."

Sam's shoulders slouched under Amy's scrutiny. She scanned the other two men and while Bobby's reaction was similar, Dean's eyes didn't waver. Their gazes remained locked even when Bobby stood up and began gathering the dishes.

The silence stretched, all three seemed to have made up their minds and were prepared to go through with was surely a suicide mission.

Though it wasn't above a whisper, Amy's voice seemed booming:

"When?"

"Tomorrow." Dean promptly replied.

Amy broke eye contact with him when Bobby placed an unsolicited cup of tea in front of her.

"Thanks." She muttered.

She was about to take a sip, when she caught something in Sam's eyes. Though their contact during their youth had been gashed into a series of two or three day-long periods of time separated by years, she recognized that look. She'd seen it last when he was ten and he'd just broken her mother's favorite figurine.

She glanced at Bobby, he quickly averted his gaze, turning his back to her and diving head first into the task of washing the dishes. When she checked on Dean, a warning bell went off in her mind as he picked up his plate and carried it into the sink.

Something was definitely up.

~……~

"H-How's the tea?" Sam stuttered, breaking the stillness.

Bobby had settled in the armchair in the living room while Amy, Sam and Dean remained stubbornly seated around the table.

"It's fine." Amy informed, cupping the warm mug and bringing it to her lips for one last sip.

"Good."

Dean checked his watch for the umpteenth time. The impatient beat he tapped on the floor echoed loudly.

"You late for something?" Amy's mouth twisted into a sly half-grin.

"No."

Silence and discomfort filled the kitchen once more.

"A-aren't you tired?" Sam wondered, still unable to keep the stammer from his voice.

"I'm fine." Amy replied gingerly, but her eyes slit dangerously, keeping them locked with Dean's. "So… where are we gonna do this?"

"This?" Dean cocked an eyebrow, never breaking contact with her.

"The Kamikaze stunt." She elaborated.

"Far away from here." He answered cryptically.

"Hum… shouldn't we discuss some details." She could tell Sam was getting increasingly agitated by the way he was fidgeting in his seat.

"Do you want some more tea? Bobby made plenty." He offered a little too eagerly.

"No, thanks." Turning to Dean she asked again: "So… what's the plan? What do I have to do?"

"You're not doing anything."

"And why's that?"

"Cause you're gonna be dreaming cute, pink unicorns and fluffy, white bunnies by then." Dean smirked smugly, leaning into the table in her direction.

"And why's that exactly?" She mimicked his action, catching out of the corner of her narrowed eyes when Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"How's that tea, sweetheart? I hear it's better Xanax."

"It doesn't pack as much punch as Bobby's, but it's ok."

She watched in amused when both brothers suddenly became aware of the faint snores coming from the living room.

Dean and Sam's wide eyes snapped to a comatose Bobby slouching awkwardly in the armchair.

"Oh, no you didn't!" Dean growled standing up.

Both hunters were at Bobby's side in an instant, while Amy casually relaxed into her chair.

"Bobby! Bobby!"

"Wake up, man! Bobby!" Dean bellowed loudly, shaking the old man vigorously, but aside from causing him to wobble limply in his seat, he got no reply.

"He's out cold." Sam announced the obvious.

"Wow, that tea really is better than Xanax, huh, sweetheart?"

Dean was in her face and the two stood toe to toe, exchanging angry glares.

"You switched them."

"And just what are you talking about?" She feigned innocence.

"You conniving little-"

"Watch it, Winchester!" She warned.

"You ruffied Bobby!" He accused.

"So? You wanted to ruffie me!" She retorted with equal fervor.

Dean fisted his hands, desperately clinging to his last thread of restraint.

"You're not going." He teethed.

"You wanna bet?" She challenged, setting her mouth.

The muscled in the corner of his jaw twitched furiously as he gritted his teeth.

"Sam!" Dean's eyes never left hers as he issued his command. "Get Bobby upstairs."

Sam didn't protest. With some effort, he managed to fling the hunter's arms around his neck, pull him up and drag an unconscious Bobby up the stairs.

Once they were alone Dean repeated in a severely low tenor:

"You're not going."

"Keep telling yourself that. Who knows? It might come true." Cockily satisfied, she prepared to make her grand exit, but Dean thwarted her moment of glory by taking hold her arm.

Before she could let out an objecting yap she was flung over his shoulder.

Her stomach lurched with each stomp he took.

"Put me down, you big ape!" She yelled.

Ten seconds after her demand he complied. She looked up just in time to have a door slammed in her face and it was lights out. Literally. She stumbled backwards, in the dark, confined space. Her spine hit a flat surface of a wall, her body cushioned by Dean's leather jacket on one side and Bobby's ragged, old raincoat on the other.

It didn't take a genius to figure out she'd just been locked into the closet underneath the staircase. Her hand was on the doorknob. Locked.

"Winchester!"

"Good night, Carrington!" She heard Dean bellow.

"Bastard!" She roared, but it was no use. He was gone.

~…….~

"Dean Winchester, you open this goddamn door right now!"

Amy's relentless shouting, vigorously merged with a commanding hammering against her confines, carried through the entire house, up to the first floor and into the boys' quarters.

An exhausted Sam covered his head with a pillow, in a feeble attempt to muffle the incessant bellowing. Two hours. Two whole, miserable hours of swearing and pounding. He was amazed she hadn't lost her voice yet.

"Dude, please, shut her up!" He begged his brother from under the cushion.

"She'll get tired…"

"Winchester! When I get out of here I'm going to..."

A string of painfully graphic and definitely R rated threats followed.

Sam had enough. With a heavy grunt he hurled the pillow at Dean.

"Hey!"

"This is Amy we're talking about!" He pointed out. "She's never gonna shut up!"

"She will." Dean's assurance wasn't convincing at all.

Both were excruciatingly aware of just how pigheaded the woman could be.

"See? I told you-" Dean began when, for a few hopeful seconds, there was actual silence but, before he could finish, the banging on the door resumed and Sam cocked an 'I told you so' eyebrow his way. "Just ignore her."

The furious cursing continued.

"Dude, either you go, or I swear I'm letting her out. I don't care what she does to you." Sam informed matter-of-factly.

"You're not letting her out. We're gonna stay here and wait."

Sam huffed loudly and flopped back onto the mattress in defeat.

Fatigue took its toll on him and gradually lolled him in and out of awareness. He was just about to drift into slumber when:

"Hey Sam?"

He wasn't going to answer. There was actual silence now and he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to catch some shuteye, even if it was for just two seconds.

"Sammy?"

'Just ignore your big, dumb brother.'

"Sammy?"

"Um…" He mumbled.

"I can't hear her." Dean noted.

"Good. She gave up."

"Dude, this is Amy!"

"I don't care! I just wanna sleep."

"Something's not right."

"Um…"

Dean watched his snoozing brother.

"I'm gonna check it out."

"Good, you go do that."


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

He took one small, calculated step at a time while approaching the door; his eyes and ears alert to any movement or sound coming from behind it. His pulse accelerated as he drew closer; the silence growing with every ticking second.

"Carrington?" He tried cautiously.

Nothing.

"Carrington?" He repeated, but once more there was no reply.

His heart skipped a beat; an eclectic combination of fear and annoyance bubbling to the surface. He tried to cling to annoyance. She was doing it on purpose. She must have known he'd come to check on her if she remained quiet.

Right?

'Please, let her be ok…' He found himself begging to no one in particular.

"Carrington!" He hissed.

When the stillness remained unbroken he was left with no choice and reached for the lock.

The clicking of the key against its metallic confines echoed in the hallway. He half-expected the door to be flung open to reveal a fuming Amy, shouting her head-off in his face.

It didn't happen and it caused him to spring into action.

With his heart pounding in his throat he swung the door open and there she was – safely cocooned between his jacket and Bobby's trench coat.

The light from the closet streamed over her, allowing him to see her head bowed as she inspected something she held in her hand.

"Carring-?" Before he could finish saying her name for the umpteenth time she had him stuck to the opposite wall, demanding hand fisted into his t-shirt covered chest, glassy green eyes pinning him with barely contained fury.

"What is this?"

That had come out of nowhere. It wasn't so much the oddity of her question that alarmed him, but the gravelly quality of her voice.

"What?" He managed to breathe out; his blood rushing down his body like it always seemed to do whenever she was this close.

"Tell me this isn't what I think it is!"

It took a few seconds for him to recover and realize she was talking about the contents in her fisted hand.

He looked down and his breath hitched in recognition.

Panic gripped him. He had to turn this on her. Hastily, he put on his best appalled expression, hoping that anger might filter through, and demanded:

"You've been going through my wallet?!"

"Don't change the subject."

He wasn't afforded an inch.

"Is this…" She paused trying to keep the rage from taking over her. "…what I think it is?"

His eyes were wide in awe of her. She'd always been a feisty one, easily riled, especially by yours truly. But he'd never seen her like this. He had to keep his game face on. Win some leverage.

"What the hell were you doing going through my wal-?"

He never got a chance to finish.

"You sick. Son. Of a bitch." She gritted, her eyes welling up feverishly.

"Watch it!" He warned.

He wasn't very convincing, standing there, plastered against the wall by the tiny redhead.

Amy wasn't even listening to him anymore. Her brain was on autopilot, fueled by wrath, frustration, pain.

"All this time…" She gasped. "All this time… I thought there was… God…"

She wasn't making any sense. Her thoughts and memories flooded her jumbled mind, thwarting her attempt to make sense of things.

Though her hand had left his chest now, dropping lifelessly at her side, he could still feel the heat of her skin through the ruffled fabric.

Her gaze became unfocussed, as if a myriad of images, imperceptible to anyone but her, was rushing past her.

"Carrington…"

The sound of her name seemed to snap her out of her daze and her rancorous glare was back on him.

"You! Yo-you made me think that there was something… wrong with me."

"What?! What are you…?" Dean babbled, confused and startled by her reaction.

A lock of her hair… big deal! He'd kept it wrapped in a piece of cloth along with a smiling picture of her … so? Why was she making such a big deal out of it? Was she mad that he'd snipped her hair twelve years ago while she was sleeping? She was prone to overreacting and definitely little crazy but this was up there with 'cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs' crazy.

"How could you?" Her tone dwelled somewhere between rage and ache.

"Carrington, I don't know what you're talking-"

"Don't!" She threatened him gravely. "Don't even think about…" Her shoulders slumped and she turned away from him, trailing off.

He watched her run her hands through her wild hair, trying to fasten it down, as if she were trying to reel in her thoughts along with her messy curls. And then she let out a sarcastic laugh that called him to attention.

"All this time… I thought there was something wrong with me. Like I was some kind of… heartless drone who just couldn't… I mean… I had all of these... things" She spat the word. "inside me. I could feel them… I just couldn't feel them for anyone else… No one…" Her eyes were back on him and he gulped dryly. "You bastard!"

"Ok, sweetheart, you gotta calm down and tell me what's going on, because-"

"Calm down! You want me to calm down?!"

"Shhh, you're gonna wake up Bobby and Sam." He hissed.

"Oh, don't you dare shush me!" She pointed at him.

"Then stop yelling!" He teethed.

She just shook her head and narrowed her disapproving eyes at him.

"What?" He questioned after the moment.

"You got some nerve, Winchester."

He stared blankly at her, hoping that she would start making sense some time soon.

"It's the ring… yeah, sure it was." She began mordantly. "You knew! You knew exactly what was causing these… these feelings and you said nothing!" She continued to accuse caustically.

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but produced no sound.

"You're going to deny it?"

At that snide Dean was back, his voice grew in a crescendo as he spoke:

"I probably would… If I knew what the hell you're accusing me of!"

"You put a spell on me! That's what! And now you're going to undo it!" She said plainly.

He gawked for a split second before issuing a dumbstruck:

"Come again?"

"Un-do it!" She bit out, closing the distance between them. "Now!"

His brow furrowed, realization gradually dawning on him.

"You think I put a love spell on you?"

"I know you did!"

"Um… I'm sorry to break it to you, but I don't do magic, sweetheart."

"Call me that one more time and you can consider yourself a eunuch for life."

"Carrington! I hate magic! I don't- Now where're you going?" He sighed when she stormed off in the middle of his sentence.

Stomping her way into Bobby's makeshift library she began unceremoniously picking up random books off the various selves and staking the up on a nearby table.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning up your mess." She gritted without even dispensing him a glance.

She was going to undo this spell if it was the last thing she did.

"There is no mess- Argh!" He growled in frustration when she refused to look at him. "Carrington…"

Nothing. She just kept on staking. And stacking the wrong books at that, Dean noted, when she plopped down a large tome on Zoroastrian Demonology.

He shook his head. Man, she was pigheaded.

"You're not going to find anything in those books."

Her head snapped up to challenge him with a scorching gaze.

"And why not?"

"Cause that one's on the hierarchy of demons, that one's on Exorcisms, and that one's on… well, I don't even know what language it's written in." He assured her picking up the last dusty volume he'd referred to and failing to read its title.

"It's Russian."

Dean frowned.

"Bobby knows Russian?"

She rolled her eyes at him and resumed her fruitless search.

Dean watched her frenzied movements for a few moments.

Christ, she was cute when she fidgeted!

She cursed inwardly at the instant prickling of her skin as he came around the table to stand next to her. She hated how attune her body was to his presence and just how promptly it reacted to his nearness.

She hated it. She wasn't supposed to feel anything. She didn't even like him.

"Amy…"

Shit! Why did he have to use her first name? They had an unspoken agreement to simply address each other by their surnames. That was the deal. This was a deal breaker.

She tried to ignore him and he inched closer, his frame hovering over her shoulder, scent overwhelming her sense of smell.

He tried again.

"Amy…"

"What?!" She snapped, loudly slamming shut one of the books to punctuate her annoyance.

She forced her eyes to remain on his face and set her jaw.

"I didn't put a spell on you. I don't even know how…"

"Yeah, right."

Her snide retort pissed him off and he cracked:

"Why would I put a spell on you?"

"How the hell should I know? I'm not exactly schooled in the inner workings of a teenager boy's sick, twisted, little mind!"

They glared at each other for a long while.

"Ok… Let's try this again. Just in case you didn't hear me the first ten times – I. Didn't. Put. A spell. On you." Sarcasm dripped from every single one of his words.

After offering him a scornful, plastic smile Amy mimicked his demeanor:

"I. Don't. Believe you."

His arms flailed in defeat and he whirled around on the soles of his shoes:

"I give up. It's impossible to talk to you."

"Then don't." She replied readily returning to her books while Dean began to mutter under his breath:

"You are the most pigheaded, stubborn…" He let out a growl when he ran out of adjectives.

Taking a ground-eating step in her direction he grabbed her arm and forced her to abandon her search and focus on him.

"Why the hell are you so dead set on believing that I put a spell on you?"

"Because I'm not supposed to fall for someone like you." She spit out without thinking.

It stung and Dean's voice became acidic:

"And just who are you supposed to fall for?"

The answer lingered between them, unspoken, until Dean said it:

"Doctor snooze?"

"Yes!" Her answer was prompt.

"Please! He's got to be the dullest person on the planet!" Dean puffed.

"He's not dull!" Amy defended.

"Oh, yeah, he's a hoot. The guy's about as fun as a root canal."

"He's a decent, honest man. Not everyone can be a chronic skirt-chasing conman." She poked at Dean.

He responded by leaning in and shortening the distance between their faces. Amy barely managed not to budge under his scrutiny; in her chest, her heat slammed wildly against its confines.

"He's an insipid, pompous, idiot with a large stick permanently shoved up his ass." Recalling one of their previous sparring sessions he concluded: "Come to think of it, you're perfect for each other!"

Amy suppressed the urge to gulp when his tone dropped an octave and down to a mere whisper:

"So tell me, Carrington… Why didn't you end up being Mrs. Large Stick?"

Amy's jaw dropped, but she quickly regained her composure:

"That is none of your business."

"Admit it…" He verbally poked at her. "You were bored."

Teeth clenched, she boldly held his gaze as he continued to tease:

"How was it?"

She waited for him to elaborate, but she knew exactly where he was going with this. The glint in his eyes denounced the lustful undertones of his words.

"Did he know how to touch you?"

His hand traced the edge of the table to brush against the tips of her fingers.

"Stop it." She swallowed.

He towered over her, his mouth now close to her ear, hand trailing up her bare arm.

"Did he make you scream like I-"

"That's enough!" She put an end to it and tried to push him away, but the fingers that dragged over her skin suddenly wrapped around her arm and kept her in place.

"Why were you even with him? You never loved him."

"How the hell do you know?"

"Oh, I know." He declared arrogantly. "Just like I know exactly why you were with him."

"Well, you just have all the answers, don't you? Enlighten me – why was I with Michael for eight years." She emphasized the long span of her relationship with her ex.

"Cause he was safe."

Her throat clasp shut. With a succinct, 4 word sentence Dean had summed up the truth she'd denied all the while she'd been with Michael.

She pushed out:

"Safe?"

"Aside from the occasional, mandatory tumble in the hay it was the perfect relationship. You couldn't get hurt."

He was crude and incise.

"Because Michael would never hurt me." Her voice was crackled.

"Of course he wouldn't." And that's when Dean delivered the final blow. "He couldn't hurt you cause you never really loved him, did you?"

The rage burned her chest, her throat… her eyes as she was violently confronted with the harsh truth – she'd never loved Michael, she'd never loved anyone.

He'd been damn near the perfect boyfriend – caring, supportive, loving, even if just in private, thoughtful, smart, faithful and yes, occasionally a little self-righteous but still… close to perfect.

So why hadn't she fallen in love with him. There must have been something wrong with her.

So, at twenty eight, she'd finally given up and resigned to the idea that she was unable to love. And she was fine with it.

That was… until the night Sam and Bobby dragged a scruffy, bloodied, half-dead hunter to her doorstep. The same one that was currently throwing her greatest fear in her face, the one that…

"If I didn't love him, it was because you put a spell on me."

Dean literally deflated at that.

"And we're back to that. Hello, square one!"

"You put-"

"AMY! I didn't put a spell on you, alright?"

The two were yelling now, undaunted by whose sleep they might disturb.

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't you stubborn woman. God! It's like I'm talking to a fucking broken record!"

"Then why the photo? Huh? Why the hair lock?"

Her question left him stunned.

"Why did you walk around with that thing in your wallet for twelve years?"

He had the answer. He wasn't about to admit it to her, especially when he hadn't even admit it to himself yet.

Amy, on the other hand, read his silence as an unspoken confession of sorcery and Dean could tell.

"It's wasn't for spell." He began with all the calm he could muster.

"Then what was it for?"

"I don't know! It was a stupid thing to do. I wanted to piss you off, so I cut your hair and…"

"It magically ended up in your wallet along with a picture of me? And you just forgot about it… for twelve years!" She completed sardonically. "Just admit it, Winchester."

"No." The double meaning of his reply remained obscure to Amy.

"You're asshole." She tried to turn away, but he didn't let her.

He spun her towards him and she yanked herself free.

"It's a spell!" She shouted furiously.

"Why?" He responded in kind.

Amy snapped.

"Because I refuse to believe that after twenty eight years, when I finally fall in love it's with you!"


	45. Chapter 45

**_Chapter 45_**

She could feel every single muscle in her throat spasm painfully thwarting her attempt to swallow. His eyes were wide and glassy as her inadvertently blurted confession lingered in his ears.

The seconds ticked by loudly and a disconcerting mixture of dread and relief washed over her when his lips finally moved.

"What?" His voice was hoarse.

'Just play dumb.' Her mind commanded readily.

"Huh?"

'Just stay calm, Amy, you can still dig yourself out of this one.'

'Yeah?! How, genius?'

'Shit!'

'You just admitted-'

'No. No, no, no, no! I didn't admit to anything! In fact, I just said the exact opposite.'

'Yeah, right! Cause he's definitely gonna buy that one, idiot! Look at him! Any minute now he's gonna put on that smug, self-satisfied smirk on and-'

"You're in love with me?"

Pang.

'Shit!'

'Told ya!' The annoying part of her brain singsonged.

'Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Let me think!'

'Oh, now you wanna think… Maybe you should have thought about thinking before-'

'Just shut up you moron, you're not even making any sense!'

Amy put an end to her ridiculous inner monologue, straightened up and faced the music with the most unphased, nonchalant demeanor she could muster.

"I just said I'm not in love with you. You don't listen, do you?"

"No…" He started cautiously. "…you said you refused to believe you're in love with me."

"Same thing…" She shrugged, adding a puff for good measure and seizing the opportunity to break eye contact.

He quickly took a side step and leaned down to be back in her face with an accusing finger to boost.

Amy seriously pondered about snapping said finger off when he uttered:

"No, no, no, not the same thing at all."

'Shit.'

'Don't look away! Just hold his gaze! Remember - game face!'

'Right, right! Game face! Here we go!'

"Number one - you better get that finger out of my face if you have any intention of keeping it attached. Number two, and let me make this as plain and as simple as I can so you don't somehow find a way to distort it, ok? Ready?" She mocked arrogantly.

He kept for rolling his eyes, but complied with her demand, lowering his hand.

"Ok, here we go - I am not now, nor have I ever been in love with you."

She sounded like she was in one of the McCarthy hearing.

"And though I don't possess any premonitory skills, I'm pretty sure the odds are…" She made use of a dramatic pause before continuing: "I will never be in love with you."

His reaction wasn't what she expected. Her heart stopped for a second when his lips curled slothfully for a sideways smirk.

'And there's the smirk.'

'Have I told you to shut up yet?'

"What?!" She demanded.

"You're lying."

Gulp.

'Keep it cool.'

"And why's that?"

He simply looked down at her squirming thumb, nervously twirling the silver band around her ring finger.

"You're fidgeting. You always do that…"

"Exactly!"

"… when you're nervous." He finished.

"I do not!" She denied vehemently.

"Oh, yeah you do." He assured her.

Somehow his shoulders seemed to grow along with his ego.

She glared at him. She needed to redirect his attention.

"And what if I am nervous? You should be too considering we are planning on summoning a demon - one which, if I may add, can kick all our asses from here to Timbuktu without even flinching. And instead, you're here making pseudo scientific assessments on my emotional state based solely on the fact that I'm twirling a stupid ring around my finger. Oh, and speaking of Lady she-demon, shouldn't you be polishing up silver bullets or carving wooden stakes or something?" Winded by her own wordy rambling, she took a deep gulp of air.

She was satisfied to find Dean's forehead marred by a deep crease, figuring she'd successfully confused him.

"It's a demon, not a werewolf or a vampire. We got the gun and the knife for Lilith."

Bingo! She knew he'd never miss a chance to correct her.

"Oh, ok, whatever! Then go make sure it's sharp enough."

Before he got a chance to get his bearings she added:

"You should really go do that. I need a cigarette."

She was almost in the clear. She'd managed to walk past him and was about to leave the room when:

"Hey, hey, hey, hold on a sec."

'Shit!'

He was back, standing in her path, blocking her exit.

"You sure you wanna stand between me and my nicotine fix?" She questioned haughtily.

"Funny." He gave her a one second long plastic smile before continuing: "You're good, sweetheart. But not good enough."

She pretended not to understand.

"Ok, that's always good to know. Now if you'll excuse me-"

And there it was again, that aggravating hand around her arm, keeping her from getting the hell out of Dodge, away from him, away from that freezing chill in the pit of her stomach.

'God! I swear he's going to give me an ulcer!'

"Nice try, Carrington."

"Let go of my arm, Winchester." She commanded gravely.

"Nope."

"You sure you wanna go with that option?" She narrowed her eyes at him, but the butterflies fluttering about in her gut made it hard to sound threatening.

He stepped closer and she automatically retreated, cursing herself the second she faltered.

"You're babbling."

"And I'm sure you're going to tell exactly what that means. Let's see… Twirling ring means nervous, so babbling equals…?"

"You've got the hots for me." He completed self-satisfied.

Her eyes grow large in shock.

"Man, you sure have some ego on you, don't you?"

"It's not ego if it's true."

She let out a loud sigh, outstretching her arms at her sides in a sign of defeat.

"You're not gonna let this go, are you?"

He shook his head sheepishly.

"What do you want me to say?"

"The truth." He stated simply with an impish grin.

"I told you the truth. Apparently, it's not what you want! So just tell me what you want to hear and I'll say it. Just tell me so I can get out of here and have a goddamn smoke."

He was taken aback by her proposition. Amy was never one to give in. Truth was he'd never won an argument with her. Usually their bickering just went on and on until Sam intervened. But his brother was upstairs, sleeping. This was unknown territory and Dean didn't really know how to react.

"Well…? Come on, Winchester, I'm not getting any younger here."

He continued to look at her and his hesitation boosted her morale.

"Are we done with the staring match, cause if that's the point…" She began walking away, the delicious feeling of triumph giving her voice a lighter tone as she threw dismissively over her shoulder: "…I forfeit."

She was almost at the door and then she heard him.

"Say you love me."

Pang.

She froze. The blood rushed furiously in her veins and it was only after a few seconds that she finally was able to turn around.

"What?"

"You heard me Carrington." There was a hint of discontentment in his tone, discontentment for her, for making him ask her to say it.

He shortened the distance between them.

She opted for outrage:

"I am not going to-"

"Say it!"

"I'm not going to lie-"

He interrupted her once again to inform matter-of-factly:

"Just say it. Say it and I'll let you go."

"For your information I can leave whenever I please. You're not the boss- Ah!" She yelped when, without warning, he unceremoniously picked her up, trudged back into the library and plopped her down on Bobby's table, alongside the books she'd staked earlier.

"You know, that kind of loses its charm after the fifth time." She tried to keep it light, but the way he was staring at her was making it impossible.

"Say it!" His eyes were large and almost pleading now.

How was she going to dig herself out of this one?

'Stupid gorgeous eyes!'

She couldn't stand the silence anymore! She couldn't take it with him gawking at her like that.

"Ok, fine! You want me to say it. Fine I'll say it. It's not true, but if that's what you want to hear I'll say it. It's not true, cause I would never-"

"Amy!" His growl cut her off.

She piped up instantly, clenching her jaw shut.

"Just say it…" He gasped.

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the edge of the table; her heart drumming away so loudly in her chest she could swear it echoed in the deadly stillness of the room along with his labored breathing.

"Ok." She paused, summoning the strength to override her most basic instinct of self-preservation. "If that's what it takes… I..."

God this was hard!

'Better just get it over with! Like a band-aid!'

"I love you!" She blurted.

The silence was murderous, she had to get out of there or she was going to suffocate. But when she made a move to jump off the table his arms settled on either side of her, effectively trapping her.

"Hey, you said-"

"I lied."

His mouth as on hers, muffling her protest before she could issue it. His hand locked at the angle of her jaw, pulling her in her for a tension fraught kiss. Lips assaulted hers unrelentingly and after a moment's hesitation she responded in kind, straining her neck upwards to meet his attack.

They both gasped for air when he tore his mouth away.

"Not fair… you said…" She panted pathetically.

He burrowed his face in the crook of her neck and her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

"You said…"

She couldn't concentrate with him doing that thing with his tongue.

'Damn it! Not again…'

With his hips pushing between her thighs, forcing them apart, arm circling her waist, pulling her in, bringing his chest against hers, teeth grazing her skin…

"Stop…"

'Oh, yeah! That sounded so convincing…' Her mind puffed.

"Dean…"

Shit, her hips pressed forward involuntarily, rubbing up against him.

This was going to end badly.

"Bad…" Her lips uttered her last thought.

The pitiable need in her voice snapped her momentarily out of her hormone induced stupor.

"Let me go…" She half begged and she felt him shake his head against her neck. "We're not gonna do this… again."

"Why not?" He finally uttered trailing his tongue over the contour of her ear.

'Yeah, why not?'

"Cause… cause gah-"He trailed open mouth kisses along her jaw line and let his mouth hover over hers… waiting. "We can't stand each other." She argued staring at his parted lips.

"Looks to me like we're getting along just fine."

His smugness reinforced her resolve and she was able to swat his hand away from her.

"No!"

"No?" He tilted his head sideways and smirked.

That smile killed her and when she repeated 'no' it wasn't very persuasive.

Just then she felt a strange vibration coming from the back pocket of the jeans Leila had lent her, followed by the distinct ringing of her cell phone.

With trembling fingers she quickly dug it out of her back pocket while Dean sighed in frustration.

Michael's name flashed on the small screen. A snarl rumbled in Dean's chest and she looked up to see him staring at the small device.

"Don't answer."

"I have to."

"No, you don't." He snatched the phone from her hand and pulled her in for another bruising kiss.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

"Stop!" She issued her breathless command, her hand flat on his chest, keeping him at bay.

Focused on evening out his erratic breathing pattern he was caught off guard when she retrieved her phone.

Before he could do anything she'd already answered the call.

"Shit." He cursed between clenched teeth, forcing his body away from her.

"Hello." She fought to keep her panting concealed from Michael.

Dean watched her brow furrow at whatever she heard from the other side.

"What? Hold on, Michael, calm down. I don't…" She said in one breath. "Michael…" She glanced at Dean but quickly evaded his inquiring stare. "Michael… just calm down…" She asked again, hopping off the table and hastily making her way out of the room on wobbly legs.

Dean watched her retreating form and let out a discouraged sigh once she disappeared beyond the threshold. The distance between them allowed his stiff back to relax and his shoulders dropped. He pressed his palms onto the wooden surface of the desk, finding much needed support as he leaned forward. In his slumped muddled head he could still pick up on her whispering voice from the living room. It sent a growingly familiar rush down his spine.

It frustrated him to no end that this woman could unnerve him so easily.

Not that he wasn't the biggest fan of the fairer sex; hell! He loved women. Loved them! They just weren't supposed to have such a strong hold on him. A simple glance from the feisty redhead though and he turned into a malleable puddle of goo; rattled to the core.

A loud thump reverberated in the makeshift library when he involuntarily funneled his aggravation into the table with a fist.

"No, Michael… I don't think that's such a good ide-"

Dean turned to see her entering the room once more.

She was pressing the bridge of her nose, eyes closed.

"Michael, wait! No… Great!" She sighed flipping the lid of the cell phone closed before snapping her eyes open to pin him with an accusing gaze.

"What did I do now?" He questioned turning around to slant against the desk.

"Apparently, you're wanted."

He didn't have to say a word, his smug grin said it all and Amy rolled her eyes.

"By the FBI. For murder." She clarified haughtily. "You should really rewire your brain for routine ego check, Casanova. It would save me a lot of trouble."

"What did Stick Doc want?" He tried to sound uninterested.

"Don't call him that." She commanded stuffing her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. "He was worried about me."

"Oh, isn't that sweet." Dean mocked.

"Actually, not sweet, bad."

He waited for her to elaborate, following her as she ambled around.

"He did a background check on you. Found out about your not so short police record. Long story short… He's coming over."

That snapped Dean to attention.

"Come again?"

"He's coming over." She replied calmly.

He pushed himself off the table.

"What do you mean - he's coming over? How does he even know where here is?"

The alarm on Dean's face informed her she's screwed up.

"You told him?!"

"It was the first thing he asked!"

"And you told him?"

"What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know? Not tell him? Lie? Fib? Lots of options, Sweetheart."

"He just sounded really concerned." She shrank under Dean's accusing glare.

"Oh, boo-hoo!" He jeered coming to tower over her and she felt the urge to cower, but held on.

"Look, I'm sorry, ok?" She compelled her body to remain straight.

"Call him back."

"And tell him what exactly?" She rebelled against his authoritative tone. "He thinks you're a murderer, it's only natural he'd want to-"

"Save the damsel in distress?" He poked snidely. "Call him!"

"No."

"Carrington…" He warned.

"No." She insisted.

"Amy, call him and tell-"

She cut him off:

"Even if I wanted I couldn't."

He watched her expectantly.

"He's already on his way over."

"I don't care. Let him do a U turn. I already got you to worry about. I'm not gonna have any more civvies hanging around. This whole thing is already pretty screwed up as it is. Kindergarten's full, sweetheart. No more babysitting spots." He spat.

"Too bad. Cause he'll be here in about three hours." She informed him.

"Three hours?"

How could he get there so quickly?

"He's taking the chopper."

Dean gawked at her.

"He's got one." She explained.

"Of course he does!" Dean's arms flayed at his sides.

"Look, he'll just come over, see that everything's ok and then he'll leave." Amy tried to persuade him.

It wasn't working.

"You should be thankful. At least he's not calling the Feds on your ass." She argued taking a strategic step back.

She wasn't backing away. She was simply… trying to find some space. Yeah, that was it! It had nothing to do with the fact that her heart seemed to want to jump out of her chest every time he was within three feet of her.

"Oh, I am so relieved, Stick Doc is so considerate."

"You should be. And don't call him-"

"Stick Doc." Dean provoked causing her to narrow her eyes at him.

"Don't."

"Stick Doc."

"Winchester." She cautioned.

"Stick…" One step from him swallowed the feeble gap she'd put between them a few seconds before. "Doc."

"What are you? A four-old school girl?!" She was unwilling to back down.

"No, but that's probably what Stick Doc's gonna sound like if he comes face to face with Lilith." Dean countered cockily.

"You don't know him."

"Oh, I've known plenty of guys like him. All tough and macho… but the second they see a glimpse of my world, they're wetting their pants and running home to mommy." Dean teethed hovering over her, making sure to invade her personal space.

"And you're not scared. You're just cruising along like it's no biggie, right? I'm Dean Winchester badass hunter!" She mocked tilting her head sideways to meet his stare.

"You bet your sweet little ass, I am."

Amy puffed.

"You don't fool me, Winchester. You're just as scared as everyone else. You're just too stupid and probably a little suicidal not to run."

Before she knew it, he had pushed up against the nearest wall, arms painfully pinned at her sides.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't-" She quickly attempted to back-paddle.

"Yeah, you did." His voice was acid.

Hers was uncharacteristically meek:

"No, I didn't."

"He shouldn't come here."

She waited for him to loosen his grip on her arms. After all she'd relented; partially at least.

He didn't let up so she continued:

"I know. But Michael… when he sets his mind on something-"

"He shouldn't come here." Dean repeated sharply.

Amy stared up at him. There was something in the way he said the sentence. As if the thought behind it wasn't completely worded out.

"He-"

"I can't be distracted." Dean informed.

She was enough of a distraction as it was. He couldn't be expected to fight off Lilith while simultaneously having to deal with having Amy's ex around.

"I'll get him to leave." She assured him, still reeling from the fierceness in his voice and his eyes.

Silence wormed its way between them and their labored breathing seemed to grow unbearably obvious to both of them.

"There's only one way he's leaving."

Her gaze dropped to his Adam's apple just in time to catch it bobbing up and down before returning to his face.

She waited for him to finish his reasoning.

"If you go with him."

She thought about denying it, but opted not to. Dean was pretty good at sussing people out. He was right, Michael wouldn't leave without her.

"Are you gonna go with him?"

She tried to reply, but the words caught in her constricted throat.

"Are you?" He asked again.

"Do you want me to go?" She finally spoke.

He chose his words.

"You should."

"That's not what I asked."

His eyes lingered on her lips when he spoke.

"Do you wanna go?"

"I could have left already." She answered cryptically.

She swallowed dryly when his head tipped to the side and the corners of his mouth tugged slightly for a weak smirk. He threw her own reply back at her:

"Not what I asked."

"You didn't answer... why should I?" She gulped once more before adding: "Do you want me to go?" She was grateful when her whispered voice didn't falter. She half-expected to be choking out her words right about now.

Feisty to the end - it made his grin grow and her knees buckled in response.

"It's always cat and mouse with you, isn't it Carrington?"

She remained silent, waiting for his response.

"No." He stated simply.

"No what?" She croaked.

"Man, you're a piece of work, you know that?"

She ignored his comment and insisted:

"No what?"

He chuckled, but there was an unmistakable anxiety in his laugh.

She froze when he released her arm to bush an unruly auburn lock away from her face. A callous thumb lingered against her cheek before his hand wormed itself under the shell of her ear.

"I don't want you to go."

She didn't know how she managed, but she found the strength to halt him when he leaned into her.

"You don't want me to go… or you don't want me to go… with him?"

"That's cheating." He leered.

"After what you made me say back there, I'd say I earned a freebie." She replied with the trademark spunk that made him want to yell at her and kiss her at the same time.

At that moment, the latter seemed much more appealing and he did what he had to do - he let her win once.

'Just this once.'

"I don't want you to go with him."

He pressed into her and she was barely able to avoid his mouth and gasp:

"Why?"

He exhaled sharply.

"Amy…"

She stared at him with those big green eyes of her.

"You talk too much."

And with that the hand on her jaw arched her upwards while the other roughly circled her waist. It propelled her forward and his lips came down on hers.

If she was planning on putting up a fight, it didn't last more than a fraction of a second. Her mouth opened willingly over his, giving him free access. The urgency of their movements grew, becoming frantic as the kiss deepened. Over and over he pressed his body into hers, shoving her against the wall while she clawed at the fabric of his t-shirt, tugging and pulling him in. With their legs intertwined, his thigh pushed between hers and she moaned against his lips.

In response, his fingers wormed into her hair, fisting the messy locks and he pressed upwards once more. He could feel, more than hear, her groan, coaxing him on.

Her breath hitched at the unexpected hand that slithered past the waistband of her pants. It easily managed to undo the fastening there and never gave her the chance to process the information.

With no warning, she jerked and tore her mouth away from him for a desperate intake of air when his finger brushed against her clit.

"Ah…"

Mouth hung open, her head lolled back lazily and he seized the opportunity to run his teeth along the column of her neck. Through half-hooded eyes she could barely make out the fuzzy ceiling as he grazed and licked his way to her collarbone; his finger unrelenting.

She looked down to find that the top buttons of her shirt were open and he'd made his way down to her chest; the hand in her hair now cupping her cotton covered breast. Not for long though.

The strap and cup of her bra were unceremoniously shoved to the side, exposing her. She blinked wildly, trying to figure out just how she'd ended up in her current position - pushed up against the wall, a talented hand in her jeans rubbing her and an even more gifted mouth suckling at her nipple.

Greedily, his tongue and teeth worked the sensitive nub of flesh, drawing it in, as he impatiently squeezed her breast towards his face, desperate for more access.

When she felt him drive a finger inside her, her knees falter and the back of her head thumped noisily against the wall. She found support by holding onto his shoulder and clumsily clutching at his hair.

Up until now she'd successfully ignored the sensible side of her muddled mind that irritatingly reminded her of the tiny fact that Sam and Bobby could walk in at any moment.

After all, just a few minutes before, she and Dean had been shouting their heads off at each other. It was pretty plausible that one of the men would come down to check on them.

But the alarm bell only went off when she felt him try to shove her jeans down her legs.

"Wait!" She grunted.

He didn't listen. He kept worriedly pulling at the stubborn denim.

"Dean… Oh… Jesus… wait…" She babbled.

Left with no alternative, she fisted her hand in his hair and hauled his head away from her chest, forcing him to meet her glazed stare.

"Sam… and Bobby…"

"Um…" He panted with a frown.

Why was she stopping this?

"They're upstairs."

Right. And they were downstairs, so?

His finger started moving inside her and her eyes rolled back.

"Stop…" She mewled.

"You wanna stop?"

If she wasn't as pathetically rattled as he was she would have laughed at the desperation in his voice.

"Maybe we should-"

He cut her off by assaulting her mouth.

No, no, no. She couldn't ask him to stop. If he did, he would… explode or something.

'No stopping, please, please please… Anything but stopping.'

He just needed to distract her. He frantically attacked her mouth, his finger started urgently pushing in and out of her and she almost came at the intensity of it all.

"Wai…Um… Dean… God… Wa… um…" Her words came out fragmented by his muffling lips and his eager hand.

He felt her drenched walls clamping down hard around his finger and increased the tempo.

"Stop…" She grunted gripping his wrist and he shook his head against her face mumbling between kisses:

"Don't wanna… can't stop…"

"Dean, we gotta…"

Another kiss silenced her.

"We… Um…" Gasp. "…should…" Kiss. "… we really should…"

"No we shouldn't…" He disagreed vehemently before returning to her mouth.

When she pushed him a little more forcefully he relented.

Resting his forehead against her he resorted to begging:

"Please, Amy… don't do this… Don't make me stop… I can't take it… I…"

"No… I don't wanna stop…"

His eye light up at that and he waited expectantly.

She gulped under his wide-eyed stare.

"The room… we should go-"

She choked mid-sentence when he suddenly retrieved his hand from her jeans. Before she could deal with the painful whiplash resulting from the loss of his touch she found herself stumbling up the staircase dragged by her forearm up by a very enthusiastic Dean.

AN: Yes, another evil, evil cliffhanger… what can I do? I'm evil, he, he, he….


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

His heel connected with the edge of the door slamming it shut behind them. The two crashed onto the bed in a bundle of limbs and the hectic struggle to relieve each other of their respective clothing began.

Between bites, hungry kisses and a screeching mattress, the items were recklessly slung across the room; Dean's t-shirt landed on the windowsill, Amy's borrowed jeans on the bed pole.

She jolted to attention at a loud crashing sound and looked up through glassy eyes to find a broken nightlight, glass scattered, on the floor.

Shit, they were making too much noise. Sam was bound to check on them.

"Shit! Dean…"

But he was too busy making his way down her body, over the planes of her tingling stomach all the way to…

"Oh, god…"

Of their own accord her thighs parted, giving him room and though she fought to recall what had her so worried just a fraction of a second before she failed to do so.

The back of her knees automatically hooked over his shoulders and when she opened her eyes again she swallowed hard at the sight she found.

Dropping her head back she tried to erase the image from her mind. It was too much for her to handle at that moment. Her heartbeat and her breathing pattern were already erratic enough as it was; there was no need to add to the raging bonfire.

Buried between her legs, his tongue circled the small bundle of nerves issuing and immediate gasp from her that made his skin prickle.

God, he loved the sound of this woman panting and moaning. He wanted… he _needed_ more and when he added his fingers into the mix he got his wish.

Her flailed to his disheveled hair, fisting into it as she bucked upwards.

Through the faint hues of moonlight that flooded the room he could make out her face. It was marred by a deep scowl while she desperately fought to keep quiet.

Never stopping, his large eyes zeroed in on her. She shook her head helplessly from side to side. She was close. He could easily tell by the powerful spasms around his finger. He lapped at her languorously and sluggishly pushed in and out of her, drawing the moment out.

She was losing the battle. Her initially muffled mewls gradually morphed into barely restrained cries. He gulped when he saw her bite into the sheet.

"Shh…" He whispered. "You're making too much noise."

She instantly pinned him with a murderous glare.

Of course she was making too much noise! What did he expect? With him doing that to her? How was she supposed to keep still…?

'_Son of a bitch!'_

He was grinning! He was _actually_ grinning up at her from between her thighs; his finger still probing her, pushing into her and…

She rolled her eyes and hated the strangled moan that came out of her.

'_Focus!' _She ordered herself.

"Amy… You have to keep quiet…" He murmured against her drenched center.

She could have killed him then and there for the chuckle she heard.

"Bastard!" She gritted.

He simply continued to play with her, bringing her closer and closer to the brink, just almost over the edge and then slowing down.

"Son of a-"

"Nah-na…" He tsked mischievously. "Language, young lady… language."

If only she had the willpower to just turn the table on him. Have him squirming under her for a change… But she didn't, she was reduced to this pathetic, quivering heap, thrashing against the covers, pulling and biting until…

"Dean, I swear…" gasp "…to _God_!..." pant "… if you don't…"

"If I don't what…?"

"Dean…" She warned shutting her eyes closed and painfully straining her neck when he added a second finger.

"I can't hear you, sweetheart…"

'_Christ, she was so tight!'_

"Don't call me… ah!"

He pushed harder and sucked her into his mouth effectively cutting her off with her own cry.

"Don't call you what, _sweetheart_?"

"I'm… gonna… Christ… Dead! You're so… oh, god...!"

She was babbling, she knew and hated it; hated him for making her lose control, for enjoying teasing her so much… hated him for being so goddamn good at this!

"For someone who is always so fond at yapping on and on… you're kinda lost for words there… Something…" Another thrust, this one a little more assertive. "… wrong?"

"Dean…"

"Yes…?" He slurred impishly.

"If don't finish this…" She pushed down at the lump in her throat, her hips pitifully seeking more contact.

She gritted her teeth and pushed further.

"Say please…"

Oh, no! She was _not_ about to beg! She'd already let him win enough times tonight. This was her limit. No begging! Never!

"Say please…" He repeated.

She tried to say no, but her ability to speak was currently reduced to useless babble and moans.

He'd done this to her! Bastard!

She vehemently shook her head against the covers.

"Amy… come on…"

Truth was he was getting a little too wound up himself. It seemed they had been dancing around this for ages! All he wanted was to be inside her, feel her wet and tight, surging under him. Feel her nails racking down his back as he thrust inside, feel her…

Ok! He really needed to think of something else if he wanted to win this little tête-à-tête. She wasn't making it easy for him though.

The thin sheen of sweat covering her fidgeting, naked body only added to the struggle.

"Amy… please…"

He heard something that resembled a 'no' and he let out a frustrated sigh.

With his fingers still moving inside her, he crawled onto the mattress.

Sensing the weight sift she opened her eyes to find him hovering over her with a puppy-dog look on his face.

"Just say please…"

She glared obstinately up at him with a set jaw.

"Damn it woman!" He hissed.

Momentarily distracted by her monumental stubbornness his fingers stopped.

"Why do you have to be so goddamn pigheaded? Why are you so freaking obsessed with controlling everything?" He growled.

"I could ask you the same thing."

Before she finished her sentence she'd flipped them over and was now straddling him.

His breath hitched at the feel of her on him and it took a few seconds to realize that she'd pinned his wrists to the bed on either side of his head.

"You're such a control freak…"

"And you're not?" She cocked an eyebrow at him, flipping her hair away from her face.

"I'm not a control freak…" He managed to word out.

"No? Let's see how you like it, then."

Winded and wide-eyed he watched her hand slip between their bodies. His hips bucked when her fingers wrapped around his hard length.

His lids slammed shut and his jaw clenched as she began quietly pumping up and down, steadily increasing the pressure.

She rested her chest against his and nibbled at his throat feeling the low rumbling building beneath her tongue and teeth.

Soon he was the one struggling not to make any noise.

"You should really try to keep quiet." She threw back at him haughtily, biting at his earlobe.

That little vixen!

He tried fixing his mind on anything other than the curves of the body currently draped over him, but all his hard work was shot to hell when she maneuvered her hips. Even through closed eyes he recognized the wet heat brushing against his crotch.

"Not fair…" He growled.

"Who said I was fair?" She sing-songed.

He thrust upwards but she quickly evaded him.

"Oh, come on now, Dean. That's cheating."

He met her gaze and scoffed:

"Newsflash, sweetheart..." His smirk distracted her and the next thing she knew she was flat on her stomach; face half buried in the covers, body pinned under his weight.

"I cheat." His voice was hoarse in her ear.

His right hand delved into her wild locks, brushing them away so his mouth could trail down the back of her neck. He parted her legs and slid between them. Propping up his body on his knees and elbows he nudged his pelvis forwards and she held her breath expectantly.

Her spine strained back when he entered her; a frown creased his forehead. The muscles in his jaw flexed at the initial resistance, his left hand came down over hers and their fingers closely interlaced. Though she was taut, her moisture eased his passage.

A reassuring gasp from her coaxed him further and he slothfully drove all the way in.

After taking a second to collect himself, he began stirring, step by step increasing the speed and depth of his thrusts. She moved in unison with him, her body undulating up against his.

As the pressure built, he burrowed face into her back, between her shoulderblades. His hand relinquished its hold on hers and she fisted the sheet while his fingers slipped beneath her body.

Her senses were swarming, picking up on the teeth scraping against her shoulder, the callous fingers palming her breast… the hard length pushing in and out of her, over and over again.

"Amy…" She managed to filter out his voice from all the background noise in her brain.

"Huh…?" Was her meek reply.

"You're making… Christ… noise…"

God, he couldn't even finish a sentence… all he could focus on was the heat and tension surrounding him.

"Huh..?"

He tried again:

"Amy… baby… you're-making-too-much-noise." He said in one gasp.

Baby. He'd never called her that. She hated nicknames. She was completely averse to sweat talk but, somehow, hearing him pant out '_baby'_ made her stomach flutter.

"No… I'm… not…"

Amazing, even in the middle of sex she had to contradict him!

God only knew why he loved this stubborn woman.

'_Wait! Love?'_

He froze, feeling as if the air had just been sucked out of the entire room.

'_What-? Wait, what?'_

"What's wrong?"

Her question brought him back to reality. She was looking over her shoulder. Her face glistened with small beads of sweat, partially covered by a few unruly curls of hair; her eyes were wide, her lips swollen and red from biting into them to keep from screaming.

And it hit him - he was in love with Amy Carrington.

There was no spell, no rings, no supernatural force involved. He knew that in his gut.

Somehow, between all the bantering and the twisted lusting he'd fallen in love with the girl who in his teens he loved to harass, the one that had been the bane of his existence - Amy Carrington.


	48. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48**

His pupils overflowed into the green iris as he stared at her.

'_Shit, shit, shit!' _The mantra hammered in his head in synch with the racing beat of his heart.

He was _so_ screwed. This was just perfect! Perfect timing, no doubt! Cause his life wasn't messed up enough as it was… It was now, at this particular moment, when his life was turned on its head that he'd merrily chosen to fall for someone. Or at least realize he'd fallen... hard.

He looked at her and gulped at the fluttering in his stomach.

'_Really, genius? Now? You picked now! Freakin' perfect!'_

A pang of fear gripped her.

"Did you hear something?" She whispered, awkwardly twisting her torso to glance at him over her shoulder.

Dean continued gawking unresponsive, his attention alternating between her eyes, her cheeks, her lips and back again scrutinizing her face.

"Dean!" She snapped.

"Huh?" He jolted.

"Did you hear something?"

"Wha'?"

His heart was pounding away so fast and yet it didn't competently pump enough blood to his brain, cause it seemed to be stuck on - '_I'm in love with Amy?! Amy?_'

He wasn't a complete idiot. He'd always been aware of the strange gravitational pull she had on him, but in love?

And as if to confirm his fears… there it was again… the powerful cramping in his gut that made it hard to breathe whenever he was around her.

'_Jesus, I'm so screwed.'_

The reset button was pushed on, when she suddenly shifted, managing to flip onto her back and breaking the intimate contact in the process. He doubled over and groaned at the loss. She tried to scramble out from under him, but even in his stunned condition his body worked on autopilot and promptly pinned her under its weight; not wanting to let her go.

"Is it Sam?"

Sam? What did Sam have to do with any of this?

Her petrified gaze bounced back and forth between the door and Dean.

"Dean…" She grunted, ineptly attempting to wiggle her way out from under him, eliciting a charged groan from the hunter.

"What are you-" He swallowed hard at the scratchy rumble coming from his own throat.

"Get off!" She huffed alarmingly checking the door for the umpteenth time.

She moved again, flattening her palms against his chest trying to push him off. He didn't budge.

"No one's coming, Amy! Relax, will you?" He commanded with a hint of annoyance.

His mind buzzed frantically. He was still reeling from the revelation of his true feelings for her and she was already scurrying off.

'_Again! Just let me think, woman. Give me a freaking second here._'

He cut her off before she had a chance to utter a word:

"Will you just for _once -_ staystill and not talk?"

He needed to regroup, figure out what to do next. His gut told him that he needed to put a stop to this. It was all fine and dandy as long as it was just a physical thing. No problem. Sex he could deal with, but… He couldn't even bring himself to think of the word again.

He couldn't do this. There was no room in his life for these feelings. She would never be safe around him.

Ok, then. It was settled. End it. Simple. Sure.

Seconds ticked by.

Why the _hell_ wasn't he getting off his ass? He should be out the door by now.

Everything was figured out.

'_We're done thinking here. Move!' _

Alarmed by the intensity of his glower she'd remained motionless. At least for a grand total of seven whole seconds and then off she went again:

"What's going-"

"Ah!" He scolded, seriously pissed off that he wasn't managing to get his body to move.

"I just want to-"

"No."

"But I-"

His hand was on her mouth.

Her eyes widened, an instant frown settled over them, her lips moved against his palm issuing muffled protests.

"Zip it, Carrington."

At that she angrily bucked under him and he readily added more weight.

Ok. He'd gotten his body to move. This was good. Now if only he could get it to move towards the door. She bucked again and glared daggers at him, sending a rush of blood through him and the whole leaving plan? Well, it was pretty much thrown out the window.

Instead, his hips found their way between her thighs and the moment his hand released her she hissed:

"Are you insane? What the-?"

She was promptly silenced by his mouth.

To hell with it! He was tired of giving up everything he wanted. He'd given enough. Yes, this was insane, but he'd find a way to make it work. He wasn't giving her up. Not her.

She could barely catch her breath. His assault on her mouth was frenzied, ravenous, matched by the erratic roaming pattern of his hands. They were all over the place, pawing at every part of her they could reach - clinging to her face, delving into her messy locks, seizing her hips when he pushed inside her.

Her movements were just as frantic. She bit at his lips, clawed at his sweat soaked back, leaving angry red lines along his spine.

The room filled with a swelling of gasps, moans and the metallic shrieking coming from the bed, burdened by their unrelenting thrusts. The eclectic crescendo drew to an abrupt end as he pushed his hips sharply one last time sending both of them over the edge.

Her head fell back limply, his body collapsing over hers and she drew out a jagged breath.

Exhaustion overpowered her. Seconds before slumber overtook she was faintly aware of being wrapped in a sheet with two large arms encircling her in a warm cocoon of heat.

The impossibly loud flapping of helicopter paddles tore her away from her dreams. She jostled and when her eyes snapped open the first thing she saw was his blurred face.

After a rapid succession of blinks her sight focused and she noted the deep worry wrinkle set between his eyebrows.

"Michael…"

She jolted upright, clutching the sheets against her chest and her gaze scoured the moonlit room for her clothes. Careful not to step on the shards of glass, her shaky hand picked them out from the mess they'd made.

Bobby was going to have a coronary when he saw this.

'_Bobby_!'

Oh, crap!

She looked at Dean. He was currently sitting on the bed, with a strange, almost accusing look on his face.

Double crap.

"Don't just stand there. Michael's coming."

"And?"

"And?"

That's what he had to say?

She hurried with her clothes. When she was done she was frustrated to find that he hadn't moved an inch.

"Winchester, get your ass out of that bed. And for God's sake put something on." She ordered hurling his boxers at him.

So they were back on the last name bases, huh?

"No thanks." He threw nonchalantly.

She trudged dangerously towards him; a warning finger in his face.

"Winchester, if you don't get out of that-"

She let out a yelp as he grabbed her by the forearm, pulled her in and effectively caused her to lose balance and topple onto his lap with a grunted humph.

"I'm not moving. You wanna roll out the welcoming committee for Stick Doc that's fine. But don't expect me to wiggle my tail and put on my party hat.

"Bobby and Sam could come in any second." She gritted between clenched teeth.

"So?"

Her eyes widened ominously. It didn't have the desired effect.

"You're a douche."

"Right back at you, sweetheart."

"Let go." She poignantly glared at her arm.

To her surprise he relented and there was a three second delay before she stood up and awkwardly straightened her hair, tugging it behind both ears.

Her hand was on the doorknob when he called out:

"Hey, sweetheart."

She turned to see him twirling her bra.

"Forget something?"

"Oh, shit."

She hastily snatched it from him and ineptly put it on without taking off her shirt all the while glaring daggers at him. He remained unfazed.

She stepped out into the hallway just in time to bump into Sam and Bobby.

"What the hell's going on here?" The bearded man inquired gruffly, rubbing his left eye.

"It's Michael."

"Who?" Sam questioned.

"Um… it's-"

"Amy's lover boy."

She froze at Dean's reply coming from behind her. Her lids fell closed in defeat and when she opened them again she was greeted by a pair of shocked, dumbfounded eyes.

'_That's it! He'd dead!_' She screamed in her head, fisting her hands and turning on her heels to find a smirking Dean, clad in nothing but a pair of boxers, standing just outside the threshold of her room.

That cat was definitely out of the bag…

She summed all the poise she could muster to face the two gawking hunters.

"When you guys are done picking up your jaws off the floor I'll explain."

And with that she stormed down the stairs.

Sam's flabbergasted gaze was on Dean.

"Dude, Amy?"

Dean shrugged. Bobby shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"Seriously, Amy?"

Still he was left with no answer.

Sam had to hand it to his brother - he was good.

After Amy's strategic escape and Dean's was less than forthcoming shrugs to Sam's inquiry, the older Winchester disappeared into the bedroom. Five minutes later, he reappeared, fully clothed, in the living room, to find Sammy and Bobby comically elbowing each other in front of the window in their attempt to peek outside.

"What's up?"

"You gotta see this, man! This guy's got his own chopper." Sam marvelled.

"I know." Dean mumbled crossing his arms over his chest, disgusted at the spectacle of two grown men snooping through a window.

"It's an AW109!" Sam continued.

Bobby hovered behind, crowding him and just as enthused about the aircraft currently gracing his junkyard.

"And not just any 109, it's a Grand." Bobby corrected squinting to get a better look at the helicopter.

"Not really drool-fest worthy, it's not like it's an Apache." Dean sneered disdainfully.

Sam ignored his brother's childish jealousy and turned to Bobby:

"That thing just set a new round the world trip record this summer."

"Yeah, I know."

Dean groaned.

"Need a bib there, Sammy?" He caustically inquired.

Sam and Bobby exchanged frowns and reluctantly retreated from the window.

Sam plopped onto the couch, while Bobby opted for a nearby chair.

"So, who's this… Michael?"

"Amy's old flame. Some big shot surgeon."

Sam waited for him to elaborate but got nothing.

"And what's he doing here?"

"He got a hold of my track record; came to rescue the damsel in distress." He replied curtly and started ambling around in front of the coffee table.

"Anything else we need to know about him?"

Like why he was making Dean so jittery?

"No."

Ok! Apparently, Dean really wasn't in a talkative mood. First he'd dodged the whole Amy thing and now this.

Sam creased his brow following him with scrutinizing eyes.

"So... About Amy..." He began but trailed off at Dean prompt headshake.´

"Nuh-uh." He snarled under his breath, popping an eyebrow but refusing to look up. .

Bobby and Sam's worried eyes met again. Taking a hint from the young man Bobby ineptly stood up and offered:

"I'm gonna make some coffee, you boys want some?"

"Yes." The two replied in unison.

The moment Bobby left Sam tried one more time.

"So, you and Amy-"

"Don't go there, Sammy!"

Definitely not in a sharing mood when it came to Amy...

"Look, it's not like I'm asking for sordid details on the mechanics or anything. I got enough emotional scars from walking in on you doing God knows what with God knows who, thank you very much. It's just that Amy-"

"Sam!"

Sam's back went rigid in surprise at the growl.

"Just drop it, ok?"

"Dean, I-"

"Nobody's getting hurt, 'kay?!" Dean suddenly barked again.

Sam immediately frowned, confused by the brusque and unexpected reply. What was he talking about?

"Hurt?" A light flipped on in his head, his eyes growing alarmed as he took in his brother's obvious discomfort.

Dean's head was bowed, the back of his shaky hand worried his forehead and he couldn't bring himself to face Sam. The younger hunter gave him a few seconds before he probed softly:

"Who are we talking about here?"

Dean let out a frustrated sigh, stared up at the ceiling for a second and then dropped his gaze back to the floor.

Why was he pushing this? He knew nothing good could come of this. Why was he asking so many questions he didn't wanna even think about?

'_Damn it, Sammy.'_

"Are we talking about Amy..." Sam paused and tentatively stepped closer.

"Sammy, just let it go." Dean's voice was scratchy and barely audible.

Hunching down to get a better look at him, Sam finished his sentence: "Or you...?"

He just had to go there, didn't he?

Swallowing dryly, Dean forced himself to meet his brother's dissecting gape. Sam was shocked at the pain stricken expression he saw - his eyes were bloodshot and glassy, his mouth a tight straight line, his clenched jaw giving away the agonizing effort to keep up the facade.

"Dean, do you..." Sam searched for the appropriate euphemism to avoid being completely shut out. "Do you _like_... Amy?"

Dean's cheeks hollowed, his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped once more, but said nothing. He wasn't sure if he could say anything. It was all the confirmation Sam needed.

"Oh, my God... You're in lo-..." The revelation was abruptly cut off by the noise coming from the kitchen which announced Bobby's return.

Dean instantly retreated, hastily brushing his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

Oblivious to what had just transpired between the two Winchester boys, Bobby walked back in and handed each their drinks.

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam said automatically; his attention was completely focused on Dean, watching him awkwardly snatch the cup from Bobby's hands and bury his eyes in the scalding black liquid.

All three remained quiet.

Sitting on the couch, Sam replayed in his mind the events of the last weeks. It took him all of thirty seconds to realize one thing - he was a blind schmuck!

How could he not have seen it coming? It couldn't have been more obvious if it had smacked him over the head. The constant bickering, the childish name calling and verbal sparring - it was Dean to a T. When it came to romantic relationship, his big brother was still in the sandbox. And now that he thought about it, so was Amy.

Under the throat-clenching stillness imposed by Dean, Sam quietly watched him ping-poing back and forth. He'd first perceived this jittery behaviour as hunter's anxiety or even a silly, macho territorial thing over his latest conquest. In light of the new information, however, every deep intake of air, every uneasy glance at the door gained on a completely different significance - all were telltale signs of anguish.

He tried his luck a few times and for his effort got about five '_I'm ok_'s, two snarled _'Can it, Sammy'_ and one practically roared '_I'm fine_'.

Dean walked in circles with his head down and when he thought no one noticed he threw a sideways glance either at the door or the window.

There was no sign of her.

What the hell was she doing? What were they talking about?

He ran his hands through his hair and over his face repeatedly and, even though he fought the urge, his eyes inevitably ended up back on the door.

Frustrated, he sat down and began tapping his foot.

After five minutes of nothing but Dean's nerve-racking beat and an occasional slurp, Sam couldn't hold it in any longer:

"Maybe we should go check on them."

Dean's head snapped up at the suggestion. He looked at Sam with a mixture of hope and thankfulness opening his face, but he quickly regrouped, assumed a cool, '_I don't give a flying fig'_ attitude and slouched back in the chair.

"Whatever…"

Sam rolled his eyes.

'_Yeah, right... Cause you really don't wanna know what Amy and this doc have been doing on the front porch for the last half hour.'_

Shaking his head, at the stubbornness, Sam stood up and just then the front door opened to usher in Amy closely followed by the mysterious Michael.

Amy's nervousness was evident in the way she held her shoulders, drawn in, hands tightly stuffed into the front pockets of her jeans.

"Uh… Hey, guys."

All five stood awkwardly in the room. In the background, Sam scrutinized Amy and Dean's reactions to one another. By all indications the plan was to avoid each other at all cost. Their eyes were all over the place with an apparent predilection for Bobby's worn-down carpet.

"This is Michael. Michael this is Bobby…"

They shook hands.

Amy pointed at the tall man standing a few feet behind Bobby.

"… that's Sam."

The two exchanged nods, a '_Hi'_ from Sam and a sober '_Hello_' from Michael.

"… And… Um… you know Dean, of course."

The greeting between the two was limited to glaring stares that sent a freezing wave of discomfort through the entire room.

And then there it was again, the deafening silence that made Amy want to scream her lungs out. Thankfully, Bobby intervened:

"Can I get you some coffee?"

"No, thank you." Michael replied politely.

"You sure? It's fresh, I just made it."

"I'm sure."

' _And hurray! more silence. How delightful and not at all embarrassing!'_ Amy thought, shuffling her feet.

Once more it was Bobby to the rescue:

"Well, please, come in. Sit down."

Michael nodded sombrely and when he walked past Sam…

'_Ha, Sammy's taller!' _Dean rejoiced letting out a mocking snort.

Amy instantly pinned him with a scolding glare that he promptly ignored.

A powerful spasm overpowered his gut at the sight of her taking a spot next to Michael on the couch. Sam took the armchair and Dean and Bobby returned to their respective chairs. Unfortunately, Dean's was placed directly in front of the couch. With just the coffee table separating them, Amy had front row tickets to the hunter's intense inspection of her ex-boyfriend.

"So… you own an Augusta, huh? How does she fly?" Bobby questioned, breaking the stillness that threatened to overtake the growingly cramped space.

Amy mentally thanked him.

'_I love you, Bobby!'_

Clearly uninterested in the chosen topic of conversation, Dean dug his piece from the back of his jeans and began dismantling it on the coffee table.

'_The guy's got a chopper.' _He sneered in his mind_ 'Oh, my God that is like... so awesome. Big whoop!'_

Sam and Bobby exchanged ominous looks at Dean's unsteady hands handling a loaded weapon, especially in front of a civilian - one that, by all indications, he wasn't too fond of.

"It gets me to where I need to go fast." There was an unmistakable undertone to Michael's words.

"Fast isn't always all that's cracked up to be." Dean interrupted, provokingly leering at Amy.

She murderously narrowed her eyes at him.

'_I'm gonna kill him!'_

"Clearly, you're a man who likes to take his time. You do own a 67 Impala after all."

Dean's spine stiffened on the spot and a synchronized intake of breath came from Amy, Bobby and Sam.

'_What the-? Is this guy suicidal? He's holding a loaded gun, you moron!'_ Sam screamed in his head.

'_Oh, shit!' _Bobby visibly cringed.

'_Tell me he didn't go there...'_ Amy mentally smacked herself.

Dean mentally smacked Michael.

"My baby has got a top speed of 110 miles per hour." He said with barely contained rage.

Michael remained unfazed by the overwhelming tension irradiating from every single person in the room. Amy felt like she was about to gag.

"On a good day, maybe…"

'_Definitely suicidal... Dude, if you don't shut up right now...' _Sam silently warned Michael.

Dean was on his feet.

'_Just back down, man.'_ Sam continued to mentally coach the doctor.

"On a good day? How about you and me go outside and I'll show you a good day!"

"Guys, let's just calm-" Amy started but choked when she heard Michael agree:

"Sure."

'_You're on your own, pal.'_ Sam gave up.

"Let's go."

"This is ridiculous!' Amy exclaimed, sending pleading looks at Bobby and Sam.

When Michael made an attempt to get up Amy's hand was on his shoulder and forced him to plonk back down on the couch.

"Michael, sit down."

"Someone's whipped..." Dean sing-songed.

His snooty grin dropped the moment Amy she added:

"You, ass on that chair, now."

"Look, sweetheart, you may have the doc over there on a tight leech, but no one puts one on Dean-" He shut up abruptly when her eyes suddenly widened threateningly.

He gulped and whether he intended to or not, the truth was his perfect little bum was back on the chair.

This earned Amy a respectful stare from Bobby and Sam.

Grudgingly, Dean resumed cleaning the semi-automatic. His hands were even more tremulous this time.

"Um… Dean, maybe you shouldn't be-"

"Can it, Sammy."

How many times had he been told to shut up now? Ten?

"Do you have to do that now?" Amy demanded aggravated.

"You told me to, remember? Earlier, before we…" He cockily popped an eyebrow at her, adding a sly smirk.

Her cheeks burned red and she felt the urge to smother him with a pillow.

"Yeah, I told you, _before._ Maybe _now_ isn't the best time." She teethed.

"Good a time as any." He shrugged, carrying on with his task while Amy began conjuring up her legal defence of innocent by reason of temporary insanity.

"I have to agree. It's best to be prepared if you are going to face this… demon." Michael stepped in.

All three hunters froze. Dean's large eyes were on Amy.

"You told him?!"

She cowered guilty in her seat. Now even Bobby and Sam were giving her disapproving looks.

'_Great_...'

"You told _him_?"

"What was I supposed to-" She started defensively.

"Ah, fan-freaking-tastic! Why don't you just announce it on a freaking billboard while you're at it?"

"He needed to know what we're up against if he-" She argued.

"Excuse me? We?"

"Yes, if he's gonna be here when-"

"Oh, no-no-no!" Dean shook his head vehemently. He was still playing with the piece, waving it around and it was making both Bobby and Sam panic.

"Dean... uh... maybe you should put-" Sam tried.

But Dean ignored the advice, using the Colt to point at Michael as he continued:

"He's not gonna be anywhere near when this thing goes down! What he _is_ gonna do is get his tight ass back on that chunk of metal of his and fly back to wherever the hell he came from. That's what he's gonna do!"

"I would rather stay here and make sure Amy's safe."

Dean was up again.

"Look, pal, I really don't care what you would _rather_ do., I am, whoever, telling you what you _are_ gonna do, got it?"

Michael stood to his full height and, even with the table between them, made use of the extra inches he had on the Dean to look down on him.

"I'm not going anywhere without Amy."

Michael's possessive tone didn't sit well with Dean.

"Yes. You are." He bit out with fisted hands and whitened knuckles.

"I know this may be hard for you to grasp, since you're so used to bossing everyone around. But you don't get to tell me what to do."

"Course not. That's Amy's job description." Dean sniggered acidly.

Before the doctor could respond Amy was up and pulling him by the arm.

"Michael, you're probably hungry, let's go. I-I'll fix you something to eat."

He didn't budge and both men remained with their feet firmly planted on the floor exchanging vicious glares over the coffee table.

The pathetic macho display could actually be perceived as humorous if it wasn't for the way Dean was clutching his gun.

Not a good sign. He had a rep for having a tricky finger.

"Michael..."

At the softness in Amy's voice, Michael's squared shoulders slumped and, much to Dean's satisfaction, he broke eye contact to look at her.

Dean's pleasure, however, was short-lived when he noticed her hand gently rubbing Michael's arm, urging him to concede. With a twitching jaw muscle he watched both of them retreat to the kitchen area and couldn't help snorting out:

"Whipped."

The smartass remark only got him a scolding headshake from Bobby as he followed the couple.

"Here. I'll help you."

"Dude."

"What?!" Dean questioned with feign innocence when he caught Sam's disapproving expression.

"Do you have to be so..."

Dean waited.

"What?"

"So Dean-like?"

"I'm not gonna have another civilian tagging along when we take on Lilith. Bad enough we got Amy."

"Is that really why you don't want him around?" Sam knowingly tilted his head at his brother.

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, man."

Dean's face warned him not to press on. Noticing the Colt Sam sighed:

"And could you _please_ put that damn thing away?"

"Nervous, Sammy?" Dean beamed sardonically, using the opportunity to lighten the mood and shift the focus away from Amy.

"With you acting like a jealous boyfriend? Damn right it makes me nervous!" Sam admitted.

"Jea-" Dean choked on the word and forced out a pathetic chuckle: "Jealous boyfriend? I am NOT-"

Dean's rant was interrupted by a fed up Sam:

"Whatever. You wanna pretend I don't know what's really going on in that pigheaded brain of yours, it's okay by me. Just put it away already?"

Having had just about enough of his brother's mulish behaviour he walked out of the room leaving a gobsmacked Dean behind, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.


	49. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49**

The left corner of Amy's mouth curled at the sight of Sam, standing at the counter, merrily preparing his meal. Ineptly, he attempted to shove as much meatloaf as he could between the thin slices of bread, to the point where you couldn't really call the monstrous concoction a sandwich anymore.

"You sure you don't want one?" He questioned Michael before taking a giant bite.

"No, thank you." The doctor replied from his spot around the table, not bothering to hide his disgust.

Sitting across from him, Amy watched tentatively.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"If you don't like meatloaf I think I got some cheddar in the fridge." Bobby suggested.

Michael shook his head, twisting his facial muscles at the offer.

"Come on, Michael." Amy insisted, getting up and crossing the kitchen to reach the refrigerator.

"You really should eat." Sam said munching down his meal.

Still not persuaded Michael wondered:

"Got any cookies?"

Amy's hand paused on the white handle of the freezer and turned surprised by her ex's query.

'_Huh?'_

"Um... I'm not sure." Bobby scratched his head popping open a nearby cabinet to check, but failed to find anything. "Sorry."

"It's ok." Michael shrugged.

His evident disappointment made Amy's brow furrow.

In the meantime, Sam's parched throat refused to accept the ridiculous amount of food he'd gluttonously bitten off.

"Amy...." He called with a mouthful; her name barely comprehensible.

When she didn't react he painfully gulped down and tried again a little more forcefully:

"Amy."

She jerked in Sam's direction.

"Huh?"

"Could you get me a glass of OJ while you're at it?" He pointed at the refrigerator.

"Um... sure. Sorry." She mumbled still distant, opening the door and leaning down to examine the contents behind it.

"You guys help yourselves to whatever you want; I'll go check on Dean." Bobby announced, stepping out.

"Here you go, Sam." Amy handed him a bottle.

"Thanks."

"Is that pie?"

Sam frozen halfway into another massive gnaw.

'_Oh-oh.'_

Both his and Amy's gazes bounced from Michael to the slice on the middle shelf of the opened fridge and back again.

"Yeah..." Amy replied puzzled.

He wanted pie? This was new.

"What kind?"

'_The kind that belongs to Dean!'_ A warning bell went off in Sam's head.

If Michael ate that last piece, Dean would have a cow. He was already in a prissy mood as it was, if he came in there to find that someone had taken _his_ pie... Sam cringed at the prospect.

"Apple, I think." Amy informed.

"I could eat some pie." Michael piped up enthused by the idea.

'_You could also have your ass kicked from here to Sunday, wh__ich is what's gonna happen if-'_

"You sure?" She was still confused, but conceded when Michael nodded.

Sam winced watching the plate being passed between Amy and the surgeon.

Why did he have the funny feeling that he would be the one getting stuck with the short end of that stick and not Amy?

"He's _not_ staying." Dean growled matter-of-factly, not needed to turn around to know it was Bobby.

"Dean..."

The Winchester whirled to face the older man with a shocked expression.

"Not you too, Bobby. You, out of all people should be the _first_ to wanna kick this guy out of here."

Bobby's eyes dropped guiltily.

"I'm not saying-"

"He's gotta go. You know that! Civvies just screw things up. He doesn't know the first thing about demons. He thinks this is gonna be a cakewalk but when the shit hits the fan he's gonna snap and-"

"What about Amy?" Bobby interrupted.

Dean halted surprised.

What was it with everyone and this obsession with Amy? First Sam, now Bobby? They were talking about Michael.

'_Quit bringing Amy into this!'_

"What about her?"

"She's a civilian too." Bobby pointed out. It wasn't an accusation.

He'd simply stated a fact in an unruffled, composed tone.

It ticked Dean off.

"She's different." He gritted.

"Why?"

Dean let out a frustrated sigh and glared at the floor, stalling while his brain tried to come up with a good justification for her being there.

Bobby remained calm while the young man resumed restlessly walking back and forth.

"B-Because... Because she knows about demons! She's seen what they can do."

That was a pathetic argument and he knew it, but it was all he could think of. Mentally, he begged Bobby not to push. Apparently, Bobby's telepathic skills were lacking:

"She's faced one demon. _One_ measly foot soldier!"

A chill ran down Dean's spine at the memory.

"And look how that turned out. This is Lilith we're talking about. Sure, she's patched up a few hunters, she's seen the end result, but that's all."

Dean stopped in his tracks.

"So what, Bobby?! What are you saying? That-That I should just let her leave?!" Dean barked angrily waving his hand in the direction of the kitchen. "With _him_?" He cringed inwardly hearing the crack in his own voice.

Bobby didn't reply; simply looked at him with soulful, sympathetic eyes. It didn't help. Dean hated when he did that. It made him feel like an obstinate child who refused to listen to his parent. He hated that he couldn't hold his gaze; that he had to look down, had to swallow hard to keep from faltering when he spoke again:

"He can't keep her safe."

"Neither can we. If she's here when we summon Lilith..." He trailed off as the gruesome scenario played out in his mind.

Dean shook his head vehemently and Bobby exhaled noisily at his stubborn denial.

"She's just as much of a liability as Michael. Bigger even."

"Why?" It sounded like a childish whine.

Why did she have to leave? He couldn't make sure she was safe if she was away.

Exasperation over Dean's blindness started taking its toll on Bobby, causing him to raise his voice:

"Because she's not some poor schmuck who just happened to stumble into a shitload of trouble." He paused, reigning in his frustration.

When he spoke again it was low and understanding:

"Because she's Amy, son... Amy."

Dean's head dropped in defeat.

"Lilith can use her against us..."

Their eyes met.

"She can use her against _you_, boy."

Dean swallowed harshly, pushing against the sudden lump in his throat.

Bobby's heart went out to him.

"Look, we're not gonna figure this out at 3 in the morning. How about we just get some shut-eye and tomorrow... We'll see... Ok?"

Dean seemed to ponder the offer. Reluctantly, he eventually agreed and nodded.

"Now, let's get some food into you." Bobby tried to lighten the mood. "You're probably hungry if you're this grouchy."

"I'm starving. Still got that pie, right?"

"Course." Bobby assured him, patting him on the back allowing him to pass. "It's in the-" He trailed off as they entered the kitchen just in time to see Michael gingerly shovelling the last bite of pie into his mouth.

Dean's eyes bulged out then murderously pinned Sam causing him to shrink against the counter.

'_I knew it. Here we go.__'_

"You gave him my pie?!"

'_I didn'__t! She did!'_ Sam finger pointed in his mind, but outwardly he just flinched apologetically, accepting the blame.

Amy recoiled. Michael remained unfazed.

"That was my pie."

"It was delicious."

All four pairs of shocked eyes were on Michael.

'_Dude! Are you on acid?__ You don't come between Dean and food! And you definitely don't rub it in.'_ Sam mentally smacked Michael over the head.

Dean saw red. He was about to lunge at him, but Bobby's firm grip on his shoulder halted him.

"Take it easy, son."

In his rage Bobby's voice seemed so distant to Dean.

Amy scrutinized the unfamiliar smugness plastered on Michael's face. He seemed to be enjoying Dean's reaction more than the actual pie.

"Just take it easy."

Bobby's hand lingered on Dean until he felt the muscles beneath partially relax. The young man backed away, trudged this way to the sink and, leaning against it, tightly crossed his arms over his chest.

Michael, on his part, slouched back in his chair, provokingly.

The guy was so asking for it.

"Michael..." Amy muttered in a low voice.

He gave her a foreign smile than made her brow crease again. Why was he acting like this? For a second an idea popped into her head - Did he still have feelings for her? Was that it?

'_Oh, God, no.'_

"So..." Michael began facing the three men in the room. "What's your plan?"

Dead silence.

"I think I'm entitled to know if-"

"Man, you're really pushing it." Dean's voice was threateningly low, the fury bubbling to the surface.

"What's your problem?" Michael snarled and Dean pushed himself off the sink.

With two ground-eating steps he was half way across the kitchen.

"My problem is-"

Amy was on her feet. In a flash, she strategically planted herself between Dean and Michael. Her palm was flat against the hunter's chest. She could feel his heart hammering away inside.

"O-Ok!" She stuttered up at him. "I-I think that's enough manly muscle-flexing for one night. Let's all just take a breather, get some rest and in the morning, if you two still want to bite each other's head off, we'll... I don't know... organize a duel or something, huh?"

She forced out a jittery gurgle and though her tone was sarcastic, her gaze up at Dean was pleading. His Adam's apple dropped when she mouthed '_Please?'._

He towered over her and contemplated her mute request. Staring into her big green eyes he found that '_no'_ wasn't an option, so he took a step back.

His eyes lingered on her. Her heart skipped a beat.

He glared at Michael and spun around to leave.

"Let's go Sammy." He commanded grudgingly.

"Night." Sam threw over his shoulders before quickly following suit.

Bobby and Amy's taut backs loosened visibly as the men abandoned the room.

Sam rolled his eyes and dropped floppily on his bed. He covered his face with the pillow, in a feeble attempt to tune out his brother's incessant rumination.

Every other step up the staircase had been punctuated by a curse or a grunt.

"I can't believe you gave him _my _pie!" Dean growled, slamming the door behind him and plodded into the room.

"_My_ pie."

Sam exhaled from behind the cushion.

"I get it, Dean! It was yours!"

"Damn straight it was." Dean fumed.

Realising the bitching and moaning would last for a while Sam ventured taking a peak from under the pillow.

Dean was pissed; hands flailing, feet stomping, the whole nine yards.

"Who the hell does he think he is? Waltzing in here and just taking a man's food like that?"

Sam propped himself on his elbows and raised a doubtful eyebrow at the seething man standing at the end of his bed.

"What?" Dean snapped defensively, recognizing the unconvinced look directed at him. "I love _pie_."

"I know you do." Sam agreed, hoping that it would put an end to Dean's hissy fit.

"Everyone knows you don't mess with a guy's pie."

"No, you don't." Sam continued to oblige, stifling a yawn. "Don't worry. In the morning we'll get you some. Freshly baked, warm apple pie, 'kay? Now, just go to bed already..."

"That's not the point!"

Of course if wasn't! Cause though they'd been throwing the word _pie_ around more times than it should be allowed in the last five minutes, they both knew this had absolutely nothing to do with pastry and everything to do with a certain feisty little brunette minx.

"Then what's the point, Dean?" Sam's lids threatened to shut closed permanently; pig-headed older brother be damned.

"I wanted _that_ pie!"

At that Sam gave up. He let his body droopily fall back and groaned:

"Oh, cryin' out loud, Dean! Just let it go already! It's a freaking pie!"

"It's was _my_ pie."

Sam didn't respond. He was already halfway to lala land when he got yanked back to reality by Dean's gruff and loud:

"Sam!"

"What?!" Sam jerked up, blinking wildly.

"You're just gonna sleep?"

"That was the plan, yes."

"What about-"

"Dude, I swear, if you say the word pie one more time I'm gonna have to clock you."

Dean lower lip jutted out pitiably.

"But-"

"We both know this isn't about a damn piece of pie." Before Dean could get a word in Sam added: "I'm too exhausted to fight you on this one, Dean; so either you ignore it and shut up so I can get some rest or-"

The clash between the two brothers was disturbed by a rapping on the door.

"Sorry to interrupt..." Amy said popping into the room. "I just need to get some covers from the closet."

Hastily, Amy walked past Dean and the two exchanged a fleeting glance that had the youngest of the Winchesters rolling his eyes again. In less than thirty seconds she left and Sam finished his sentence:

"-or you can just talk to your pie."

Dean's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but before he could argue Sam had already flipped on his side, facing away from him.


	50. Chapter 50

**C****hapter 50**

After a sharp intake of breath, he'd pushed open the door and stepped out into the hall. Resolve face on, Dean had marched forward, but his determination had drained out of him in the ten measly steps it took to reach her door.

Now, he just stood there, feet pathetically planted at the entrance to Amy's bedroom.

His callous, shaking fingers traced the rough edges of the wood as he fought the impulse to just burst inside.

He wasn't sure if it was pride or the basic instinct of self-preservation that kept his legs frozen in place.

His mind swarmed with conflicting emotions.

No matter how many different scenarios he thought of, they all ended badly.

Even if, by some miracle, they managed to beat Lilith and save him from the pit, what then? Would Amy go back to her life like she'd so haughtily announced in their numerous confrontations? Maybe she'd leave with Michael.

His gut wrenched at the prospect.

Or would she choose to stay with him and Sam?

Snippets of the three eating at different diners and crashing in an assortment of seedy motel rooms popped into his head. They brought a half smile to his lips. It grew at a flash of Amy waking up with ruffled clothes and messy hair in the back of the Impala after an all night drive. His pulse speed up when the fantasy expanded to include some alone time with Amy; sneaking into the bathroom for heavy groping sessions while Sam was snoozing, stealing kisses on a job.

The job. The fucking job.

A single image and a powerful spasm seized his throat. He staggered back at the sight of Amy, lying in some random cemetery, lifeless, in a pool of her own blood; the consequence of a hunt gone terribly wrong.

Dean shook his head, desperate to erase the terrorizing picture currently burned in his mind's eye. Gasping and blinking uncontrollably he stumbled away, lost in thought.

When he finally returned to reality he found his feet had brought him halfway down the staircase.

Slowing down and forcing his breathing to even out, he continued to the ground floor. Careful not to make a sound, he headed for the kitchen but faltered in his stride when he noticed the empty couch. The sheets Amy had brought from his closet where spread out but there was no sign of the surgeon.

In two minutes he'd searched the whole ground floor and... nada.

It wasn't long before his brain supplied him with an answer for Michael's absence.

He was with Amy!

'_That fucking ass-'_

He was gonna rip his spine out!

About to trudge up the staircase, he halted when he heard a noise from the basement.

Amy turned on the mattress and for the umpteenth time that night let out a frustrated sigh. Sleep continued to dodge her.

She stared at the ceiling and closed her eyes, giving it one more try.

That turned out to be a mistake. A big one. With her eyes shut all her other senses became alert, particularly her sense of smell.

Everything, the sheets, the pillow, even her own skin - for God's sake! - was saturated with his scent.

It brought to the forefront of her mind a series of fresh and toe curling memories that she really didn't need, if she wanted to get some rest.

Popping one eye open she raised her head to checked her feet and sure enough:

'_Yep. He's __got me curling my toes. Great! Just great.' _

She dropped her head onto the pillow and actually whinged when the gush of air coming from under her reached her nose.

"Stupid Dean and his stupid smell..." She grumbled.

And it wasn't even that impressive! Just soap, some cheap-ass aftershave and a hint of leather and gunpowder.

'_Big deal.'_

Definitely not worthy of a sleepless night.

Except for the tiny detail that it was _his_ scent.

"It's official. I hate pheromones." She growled sitting up and dragging her body out of bed.

She needed to get away from it.

Slipping on Leila's jeans she decided she also needed a smoke.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Michael's exploration of the dark and damp basement came to a screeching halt at Dean's sharp demand. Slothfully, the physician twisted around to face the hunter.

"Browsing." He stated simply, revealing a disturbing, closed-mouth smile.

"You're done browsing. Wrap it up. You can't be here." Dean commanded curtly, his tone purposefully arrogant.

It didn't faze Michael, though. Instead of heading in Dean's direction, he took his time, stretching out each step languorously further into the shadowed hall.

Dean's blood curled, watching Michael's hand run over the edges of the walks, feeling its way up to the bolted door at the far end of the space.

"What's in here?"

"None of your business." Dean's rage rimmed the edges of his voice, making it hoarse and cracked.

Michael's response was slow, clearly impervious to the palpable loathing irradiating from the shorter man.

"You don't like me that much... do you Dean?"

Dean snorted with narrowed eyes:

"What gave it away?"

A warning chill ran down his spine when he saw Michael's smirk twist sideways.

"Call it a wild guess."

There was a pause.

When Michael spoke again, he'd already resumed his walkabout the room, now drawing closer to Dean.

"It's shame..." He tusked with nerve-wracking dispassion. "Cause I like you, Dean."

"Sorry, pal, I don't swing that way." Dean stabbed, adding an acidic snicker: "Tall, dark and burly just doesn't do it for me."

"No, it doesn't." Michael agreed. "You're more of a short, smart-mouthed firecracker type, aren't you Dean?"

Every time he said his name, the hunter felt the intense urge to hurl Michael across the room and bash his teeth in. Instead, he curled his fingers and tightly fisted his hands at his sides, reigning in the blinding anger. Accomplishing this became tricky at the simple mention of Amy.

"Tell me Dean, what do you think is gonna happen here?"

A cock of the hunter's eyebrow told him he would have to elaborate his trail of thought.

"After this demon business... Lilith, is it?"

The lack of a response was enough of a confirmation.

"What then?"

"Once again - none of your god damn business." Dean replied snarkily.

Michael laughed quietly.

"Come on, Dean, let's be realistic here. Do you really think she'll choose you over me? A pathetic teen crush over an eight year long relationship?"

"Relationship?" Dean scoffed. "That what you call it?"

"What would you call it?" Michael's tone remained oddly unaltered as he came to tower over Dean.

"An eight year lukewarm, coma-inducing, snooze-fest. And correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Amy dump your ass already?" Dean questioned, looking up at his opponent with his trademark smirk, hoping to evoke some kind of primal reaction.

Nothing. If anything, Michael seemed amused.

"She's a sophisticated, elegant woman, with _special_ needs, Dean."

Dean saw his opening and smugness oozed from every word when he spoke:

"Don't worry about her _needs_, pal. I took care of those before you got here."

Dean braced himself for the punch he was about to receive for his nasty comeback.

It never came.

'_Oh, come on! Even freaking Gandhi would be itching to take a swing for that one!'_

"So you think she'll just merrily tag along with you and your brother. You'll all just be one happy, dysfunctional family. Is that what you think?"

"Why not?"

He was actually considering it. Poor bastard.

"What if a hunt goes wrong?"

"Amy can handle herself."

"Are you sure, Dean?" Michael leaned in and slit his eyes. "You're not going to be able to be with her 24/7. One day you might slip. And when that happens-"

"Dude, you're one second away from having your ass handed to you on a plate."

"I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"You _really_ should shut up now." Dean's voice was threateningly low.

"Deep down you _have_ to know that this is never going to work. Sure, it's fun now. Everything's a novelty. Exciting. Fighting the big bad demons. But after a while... Well... I don't need to tell you the downside of a hunter's life. Do I, Winchester?"

Dean's nostrils flared, eyes narrowed dangerously.

Michael knew he was pushing just the right buttons. This was delicious. Watching him squirm, losing his self-control.

'_Azazel sure knew how to pick 'em.'_

"She's gonna leave. Sooner or later they all-"

Before he could finish Dean had him pinned against a wall by the collars of his shirt. Michael's back crashed against the concrete with brute force.

"Shut. The fuck. Up."

"Dean!" Amy's voice came from behind him, but Dean's murderous glower never left Michael.

"Oh, Amy! How nice of you to join us!" Michael's tone was more suitable of somebody lounging in a comfortable armchair and not of one being propped up against a wall.

Amy's frowned split between figuring out Michael's odd behaviour and the fact that Dean looked like he was about to snap her ex in two.

Weighing her options, she went for the latter:

"Dean, what are you doing?" She quickly came to stand next to the hunter. "Let him go." She demanded.

But he didn't budge, his focus lingering on Michael.

"We were just talking about you, weren't we, Dean?"

Dean's upper lip twitched for a snarl.

"Lover boy here thinks you two are going to run off into the sunset together. Isn't that romantic?"

Butterflies fluttered in her gut and Amy gulped.

"Shut your pie hole..." Dean teethed.

"You really shouldn't string him along like that, Amy. It's not nice."

"Michael, stop..." Amy begged.

"We both know what's gonna happen when you get bored."

Why was he saying that? This was so unlike him.

All the time she'd known him, Michael had always been a fan of repression. It also helped that he didn't even notice most of the issues in their relationship. Michael wasn't big on subtext. For him black, was black, white, was white. If Amy smiled it was because she was happy, if she cried she was sad. If she did neither... well, he didn't really know what to do with that so he'd just ignored it. He was pretty good at that. So where did all this insight into her psyche come from?

"You'll just close up like a clam. Bury yourself in work and when that isn't enough, you'll just leave, won't you?"

For the first time, Dean looked away from Michael. His hands continued to grip Michael's lapels tightly, but he needed to see her answer.

"Well... You shouldn't keep Dean waiting, honey."

It felt like a thousand thoughts buzzed around in Amy's head and she couldn't latch on to a single one of them.

In the end all she could see were those big hazel eyes watching her expectantly.

"Cause that's your MO, isn't it? Moment someone gets close, little Amy runs."

Her eyes snapped to Michael.

"You never got close."

"Cause you never let me in." The surgeon smirked.

Amy's stomach jerked at the realisation - this wasn't Michael!


	51. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51**

'_Don't just stand there! Do something, you twit!'_ A voice inside her head shrieked manically.

Dean gasped. Out of nowhere, he found himself fighting to catch his breath; all the air suddenly sucked out of the basement. An unsettling panic ripped its way through him causing his grip on Michael to loosen. He blinked frenziedly trying to suss out what the hell was happening to him.

His stomach clenched convulsively with a terror that wasn't his own.

Wide eyed, he turned to catch a glimpse of Amy.

It was hers!

She was staring at Michael; fear marring her face. For some reason, Amy was scared out of her wits. But why? Had he missed something?

"You ok?" It came out weak and hoarse, his throat tightening.

She jerked her gaze away from Michael to meet Dean's.

She needed to get him away from whomever or whatever he was currently pinning to the wall, cause it sure as _hell_ wasn't Michael. But the only thing she could do was nervously twirl the silver band around her finger.

The sight of her made him release the surgeon and he was suddenly standing by her side, his reassuring hands cradling her by her shoulders.

He bowed his head to look into her glassy, frightened eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Her mouth gaped, but she choked on the words.

"Baby...?"

The despair of not knowing grew with every ticking second.

She seemed frozen, locked inside herself by this agonizing dread.

"Amy!"

His roar effectively snapped her out of her daze.

She looked at Michael and a second wave of nauseating dread tore through him.

It was Michael! Something about him was... His thought process trailed off when he turned. Michael's lips were twisted into a malicious grin and his slit eyes zeroed in on Amy.

"Why, honey, you look absolutely ashen. Something wrong?" Michael singsonged.

At that Dean stepped back; his hand was on Amy's arm and forced her to retreat with him.

"Amy..." Dean began without looking at her, his eyes keeping track of his target. "... go upstairs."

She didn't budge even when he stepped between her and Michael.

"Amy! Now." He threw over his shoulder.

"I'm not leaving you here." He heard her whisper from behind.

Damn it! This was no time for her stubbornness.

"Just go." He fought to remain calm, but his concern for her wellbeing made it almost impossible to keep up the cool and collected exterior. "Michael and I need to have a talk."

His heart drummed away a panicky beat, but his scrutinizing focus remained on Michael. Dean was ready to put a bullet in him if he so much as moved an inch in her direction.

"Not without-" She began.

"Amy!" He whirled around and pinned her with his gaze.

She flinched as his fingers dug into her arm.

"Go. Now!"

He watched her swallow hard and a flicker of relief sparked inside him when she nodded her agreement.

She was about to turn, but went rigid - a chillingly loud sigh echoed in the darkened space, followed by:

"Oh, no. Amy can't leave."

At Michael's forged pout Amy's stomach spasmed.

"Not now that the real fun is about to begin." The surgeon directed his piercing eyes to Dean. "Isn't that right, Dean?"

The clash between blinding rage and the primal instinct to keep her safe made his tone both rough and small:

"Let her go. She's got nothing to do with this."

"I disagree. I think it's got everything to do with her. After all, we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her, now would we?"

"Amy... move..."

The one time she decided to do exactly what she was told she couldn't. When she attempted to move she found she was paralyzed. No matter how many times her brain told her legs to walk away, they refused to oblige.

Something was keeping her in place.

"Amy... Go."

She tried again and suddenly something was crushing her windpipe.

"Amy!" Dean gritted angrily.

"I-I can't-" She choked out, her eyes watered in response to the excruciating pain in her throat.

Frustrated, Dean checked on her over his shoulder preparing for a major scolding. This wasn't the time for her Xena routine. She was in over her head on this one.

"Amy!" He yelled in panic at the sight of her hovering just an inch off the floor.

Her neck was utterly arched to the limit as if some unseen hand was holding her up by her throat. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly while she frantically gulped for air, her arms and back stretched taut and the tips of her shoes rasped frantically against the concrete in a feeble attempt to find her footing.

"I think Amy should hang with us a bit longer."

"You son of a bitch!" Dean roared lunging at Michael.

He didn't get a step in before being hurled clear across the open space. There was a loud clashing sound when his back connected with the wall, followed by the dull thud of his body tumbling to the floor.

"Enough chitchat, time to get down to business."

Panting, Dean stumbled to his feet and looked up. Instead of Michael's human iris he found two perfectly white, lifeless orbs staring back at him.

"Lilith." He snarled in disgust.

"Dean, you remembered. How sweet! I'm touched."

"Let her go." Dean teethed watching the colour drain from Amy's face, the struggling of her legs become increasingly chaotic from the lack of oxygen.

"I will, as soon as she gives me what I want."

Lilith twirled flamboyantly in Amy's direction.

"Dean? Stay." She didn't even bother to look at the hunter as she issued her command. She merely tipped her index finger and Dean was once again flung against the wall like a used up and discarded ragdoll except, this time, instead of smashing to the floor he remained pinned up against the cement. "Let us girls settle this, shall we? What do you say?"

All that came out of Amy were a series of weak mewls as she fought unconsciousness. It was becoming increasingly hard. Her mind became clouded and her vision fuzzy.

"It's not polite not to answer when someone asks you a question, missy. You should know that." Lilith gave Amy a reprimanding head tilt followed by a small, infantile giggle. "Oh, I forgot. I'm sorry. Let me loosen that up for you."

The moment the suffocating clutch on her throat slackened a bit Amy wheezed for air. Ravenously, she gobbled and swallowed it into her collapsed lungs and, gradually, the colour returned to her dangerously hued cheeks.

"Now, I believe you have something that doesn't belong to you. Please give it back."

With her head still slanted back, Amy strained to look at Michael's possessed form the corner of her eyes.

"Well, how about it? Come on... I don't have all eternity. Well, actually I do, but I'm not really good at waiting. So..." Lilith outstretched her hand.

"Screw..." Pant. "...you."

"That's not a very nice thing to say." Lilith pouted, and just as her lower lip jutted out the clasp on Amy's throat tightened.

She choked, but her hands instantly balled into fists and Michael tsked, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"You really think you can win?"

"Bite me." Amy spat and Dean swallowed hard.

"Maybe later."

Michael circled her tauntingly, with long, carefully calculated strides.

"Right now... I want the ring."

Amy's scream pierced through the silence. Dean watched in terror as her spine stretched back and her entire body went completely tau.

"Amy!" Dean cried out.

Blood began trickling from her right fist.

"Oh, goody, this is going to be so much fun."

Dean clenched his teeth at the image of a grown man like Michael childishly clapping his hands in glee.

"You sick... bitch!" He gritted.

Lilith's response to his insult was directed at Amy.

"Ah!" She screamed, convulsing in midair.

The anger drained out of him in a flash, instantly replaced by horror.

"Stop! Oh, god... Amy..."

A red tear streaked over her tightly balled knuckles and dripped to the floor, joining its twins to form a small puddle.

"Amy-Jesus! Just give her the _damn_ ring!" His eyes welled, blurring his vision. "Amy, baby... please...."

"Feisty little one, isn't she Dean? I can see why you like her so much. I think I'll keep this one." Lilith decided, observing the obstinate woman. "Little puppy needs to be taught some lessons. Bad doggy."

"Screw... you." Amy managed to rasp out between moans and gasps.

Dean's head dropped for a second in defeat.

"Oh, that's not nice."

"Go to hell." Amy spat.

"After your boyfriend." Lilith teased.

A fresh onslaught of pain and Amy's cry was ripped out of her throat. This time she wasn't sure if she would be able to hold onto clarity. She could feel her body threatening to shut down. With her senses unable to handle the force of the attack, slowly but surely, everything became distant. The shapes and lights blotted into an abstract stain of dark hues while the stomach-churning scent of her own blood faded. She could feel herself rushing towards oblivion. Dean's gravelly voice, shouting her name, begging her to just let go sounded so muted and far-off.

So this was what it felt like to die, huh? Not as bad as she-

A sharp and impossibly loud sound sliced through her daze. And she was violently, mercilessly jeered her back to reality.

She didn't know how long it took for her to force her heavy lids to open. Time seemed to stretch around her. But when she did, she met hard, bloodstained cement. She cringed, shifted to look up and found chaos.

There was too much information. It was all happening too fast for her cluttered brain to grasp.

So she focused on the small things, bits and pieces that she tried to puzzle together; to make some sense of it all.

First, she picked up on a pair of dusty boots by her side. Then she trailed the long, seemingly endless legs attached to them to find a gun yielding Sam on the other end. Her gaze continued its reconnaissance by following the direction of the fuming barrel.

After a couple of blinks, Michael's possessed body came into focus. He staggered backwards, clinging to his left, blood soaked arm.

Though she couldn't see him, she recognized Bobby's shouts; something about a door? She fought to keep up, but it was too much. Her senses were saturated; there were just too many bits and pieces being chugged at her muddled, broken mind.

Realising it was feeble and fruitless she decided to prioritize, once again. Glancing down at her hand, she anxiously wiped at the crimson stain and let out a sigh of relief at a flash of metal.

The ring, she had managed to cling to it somehow.

'_Thank God.'_

This meant that he was alright. Didn't it?

"Dean..." She could barely hear herself over the ear-splitting shouting, the clanging and pounding of racing combat boots all around her.

A sudden thundering and unexpected clang of metal meeting metal caused her heart to jump to her throat. It put an abrupt end to all the pandemonium.

Her ears adjusted to the new stillness and gradually picked up on harsh pants and rapid footsteps trudging her way. Before she had a chance to move, someone was holding her up, turning her on her back; her sore and aching back.

"Ouch..." She whined at the sting it brought on.

From what her cluttered brain could suss out she was probably on the floor, with her upper body being gently cradled into a half sitting position.

Her eyes trailed the arms circling her to reveal the identity of their owner.

"Dean..."

He was safe.

'_Good._'

She could faint now.

And that's just what she did.


	52. Chapter 52

**C****hapter 52**

Gently, he placed her on the couch and knelt down beside her. His hand ran across her face, pushing back the random auburn locks.

"Amy..." He called in a quiet, hoarse voice.

There was no response and his teeth clenched, his brown knitted.

"Come on, Baby... wake up."

He begged.

Dean Winchester never begged before. That was just the way it was.

Now he did. He was begging and he didn't care. As long as it got her to open those _stupid_, _pigheaded_, gorgeous eyes of hers, he would beg.

"Come on, come on... just wake up." The anxiety filtered into his touch.

He shook her lightly at first. When she remained motionless, anxiety morphed into fear and before he realised it he was jolting her.

"Ouch!" She cried out, popping her eyes open; a frown wrinkled her forehead.

She blinked.

"What the hell? Winchester?" She steered cautiously.

Man, every inch of her ached.

"What are you doing? Trying to finish the jo-Umph!"

She yelped suddenly trapped in a suffocating bear hug.

Great! She'd survived being tortured by übber bitch-demon only to get smothered to death by Dean Winchester.

The hunter burrowed his face in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply, oblivious to the pain he was causing her.

She was going to protest, just as soon as she got some oxygen into her, but before she had a chance it was over.

A bit stunned from being unexpectedly abandoned on the couch, she looked up to see Dean standing- correction - dangerously towering over her.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" He snapped at her.

What was he shouting at her for?

Ouch, her ears were still ringing.

"That was the most stupid, dim-witted-"

"Hey!" She interrupted his string of insults.

From what she could gather she was laying on Bobby's couch. But there was no sign of him or Sam.

"Don't you. _Ever_. Do that again. You hear me?" He continued to lecture.

"Ok, first - do you mind bringing it down a decibel or two? I'm not deaf... yet! And while you're at it, drop the attitude."

She attempted to stand up. She didn't like this whole hovering thing, plus, her neck was hurting like crazy. Straining it to look up at him wasn't an option.

But the instant she began ineptly shuffling onto her feet, his hand materialized on her shoulder and effortlessly caused her to plop back down. Dean's little move didn't sit well with neither her brain nor her ego.

"Sit."

"Not a dog, Winchester. Remember?"

"Can't you just sit still for one God damn second? Jesus!" He barked.

The tone in which he said it made her comply, at least for now.

He hastily put some distance between them before he did something he'd regret.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't discard the images flashing behind closed lids. He pressed his fingers into them.

Shit, it didn't work.

His pulse remained erratic.

"Shit!"

Amy jumped a bit at the roared curse. She watched him restlessly amble in circles in front of the coffee table. Thankfully, it was now strategically place between the two.

The muscles in the corners of his jaw roped, hollowing his cheeks and making his sharp bone structure more pronounced when he finally looked at her again.

She gulped.

"What were you thinking?"

She could tell he was using all his willpower to keep his tone even, 'cause he sure looked like he wanted to bite her head off.

"What?" She questioned innocently, standing up.

It wasn't the right move. In a flash, his angry steps throttled the puny distance between them; the coffee table presenting absolutely no challenge to him..

"Dean, I'm ok..." She tried to laugh it off.

It was her second mistake. If anything, her blasé attitude about what had almost happened only fuelled his aggravation.

"You're ok? You're ok? Well, then that's just peachy! I'm _so_ glad!" His voice dripped with caustic sarcasm. "What if Sam hadn't come in when he did? What then? Huh? Tell me Amy?!"

She tried to reply but he cut her off.

"You listen to me." His trembling hand reached for his jacket and fished out a set of familiar keys. "You are going to get in the Impala and you're gonna drive."

Amy shook her head emphatically while dragged her across the living room by her forearm.

All he wanted was to get her as far away from there. Far from Lilith, far from this life, far from him... where nothing could touch her, where she would be safe.

"I don't wanna know where you go. Just keep driving until you reach a state line, cross it and then keep driving till you get to the next one, you get that?"

He halted abruptly and pinned her with his glare.

Her determination matched his.

"You done having your hissy fit?" She questioned haughtily.

"Amy..." There was a seething warning bubbling in that single word.

"I'm not going. I know it. You know it. So let's just skip this whole go, not going routine and just tell me what happened back there."

He just stood there, looking at her, making her stomach crawl and the silence unbearable.

"What happened?" She tried to fill the nerve-wracking stillness.

Out of nowhere it hit her.

Michael! He'd been shot!

"Oh, my God! Is Michael ok?" She asked fretfully.

Right... Michael... He'd forgotten about that.

In sync with the emotional pingpong he'd experienced all night the fear and anger melted into jealousy.

"He's in the safe room. Bobby and Sam are demon-sitting." He replied grumpily.

"Safe room?"

"Bobby's got a room all tricked out and demon proofed." He explained.

Amy frowned.

"If it's demon proofed, how'd you get Lilith in there?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at her.

"So not the time for technicalities, Carrington. Point is Bobby and I managed to get Lilith inside."

"Will it hold her?"

"That's the million dollars question. And that's why you..." He snuck in a dramatic pause. "...are leaving."

And the circle was complete.

"I thought we agreed to skip this part."

"You thought wrong." He put on a plastic smile which lasted barely a second, before resolve face was back on.

Amy fished for excuses.

"I can't leave. Michael got shot. I need to check on him." She pushed past Dean but faltered in her confident stride at the hunter's cynical retort:

"Right. We'll just politely ask Lilith for a two minute recess so you can pop in and patch him up. I'm sure she'll agree."

She rolled her eyes and turned to face him. Her heart skipped a beat when she found him standing just a few inches away from her.

How did he move so fast?

"It's a flesh wound." He sneered, apparently oblivious to the effect his closeness had on her. "No need to worry your pretty little head about it. Loverboy's gonna be fine."

"Jealousy? Really, Winchester? That such a brilliant idea considering the current situation?"

"About as brilliant as you sticking around to get bitch slapped some more."

"I don't run away when things get complicated." She replied with trademark snide.

"Carrington," He leaned in and the butterflies inside her worked overtime to make her miserable. "...that's all you ever do."

"When did I ever-"

"You _know_ what I'm talking about." He emphasized his meaning by cocking an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" She sighed loudly. "Will you just let it go already? So I have a tendency to avoid emotional-"

"A tendency? Oh, sweetheart! It's more than a tendency with you. It's a religious dogma." He pointed out spitefully.

She closed her eyes and fought to keep the eclectic mishmash of aggravation and lust rumbling inside her under control. Her breath hitched when she opened them and met Dean's obstinate look.

"Now? You wanna talk about this _now_? You're kidding, right?"

For _weeks_ they'd been dancing around the issue, cleverly masking their feelings in witty banter, throwing snarky quips at each other and now! Now that they had a freaking _demon_ on their hands, Dean Winchester decides it's sharing time!

'_It's official - my life sucks!'_

Despite her incredulous remark, Dean remained still and expectant.

"I am _not _doing this now!" She announced promptly.

Her triumphant exit was sabotaged by an increasingly recurrent move on Dean's part. She poignantly glared at the hand currently holding her arm, keeping her in place.

"You gonna leave?"

"What? Now you _don't_ _want_ me to leave? Make up your mind, Winchester." She declared haughtily making another attempt at a dramatic walk-off.

He held her in place.

"You know what I mean." His voice was low and the way he stared at her it felt like he was burning a hole into her.

His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her.

"You are. You're gonna leave."

Before she could get a word in he let go of her and stepped back; his demeanour changing instantly to one of indifference.

"Good."

"Huh?"

"You should leave."

"I should-" It was her turn to swallow the space separating them. "You want me to leave. Even after all this is over?"

"It's what you should do."

He didn't look at her and she strategically placed herself in front of him, giving him no choice but to meet her wide-eyed stare.

"That's not what I asked."

"Should, want, same thing."

The way she kept glaring at him told him that his snarky comeback didn't count as an answer.

His shoulders slacked in defeat.

"You can't stay with... us." He corrected himself in the nick of time. "It's dangerous. You saw what just happened. I can't-"

She interrupted his list of justifications.

"Again! Not what I asked."

Just in case he'd forgotten she asked it again:

"Do you _want_ me to leave?"

"I want you to be safe."

"Ok, I'm gonna ask this one more time and then I'm just gonna assume the answer is yes. So here we go - Do you. Want me to leave?"

She watched the corner of his eyes twitch as he fought to keep any trace of emotion from his face, but didn't say a word. The silence felt like a powerful blow in her stomach.

She pursued her lips together, holding onto the sting inside her chest and nodded.

"Okay." It was small and gravelly.

Amy dropped her gaze triggering absolute panic in him. A single, rushed request came out of Dean:

"Stay."

Her eyes snapped up; her breathing stopping halfway into an intake of air.

"I-I want you to stay." He admitted and though it was probably one of the hardest things he'd ever done, he kept his eyes on hers.

After an eternity and a hard swallow from her he heard her murmur:

"Why?"

It pissed him off being pushed into admitting things he didn't want to admit.

"Why do you think, Carrington?!"

"I dunno." She feigned innocence.

"Course you don't." He snorted using the chance to avoid her stare.

It was good to see him squirming for once.

"Sam and Bobby are probably worried about-"

"You son of a bitch!"

"Hey!"

"You're a coward! You stand there and try to make this about me? About _my_ inability to commit? But the second the tables turn you just tuck your tail between your legs and make a run for it." She ranted in his face. "_I_ am not the chronic manwhore here. _I_ was in a long term relationship and what about you, Winchester? _Popsicles_ have a longer lifespan than most of your relationships." And the hits just kept on coming. "You can sleep around as much as you want, Winchester." The disdain dripping from her words attested to the contrary, but she insisted on keeping up the facade of indifference: "I'm ok, with that." She added a shrug for credibility. "It's just who you are. What I don't understand is why you felt the need to humiliate me like that!"

"Humili-When did I-?" He frowned.

"You made me say it!" She suddenly snapped up at him.

She didn't give a rat's ass if she was dropping her guard. She was too ticked off to care.

"You made me say it, Dean! _Why_?"

She was furious now. She had a pretty big ego and she didn't like having it trampled, especially not by an incorrigible womanizer like Dean Winchester.

"For kicks? To watch me squirm? Break me? _What_?"

"I didn't do it for kicks." He defended himself.

Amy breathed out her disappointment.

"Whatever... Just don't make this about me, ok? If you're scared-"

"You're damn right I'm scared! I'm frigging scared out of my mind, here! You think I _enjoy_ this? Feeling this way? Playing this game of tag with you? Chasing you around like some lost puppy?"

"Then just stop!"

"You don't think I tried?" His tone was caustic. "Oh, believe me, _sweetheart_, I've tried! God knows my life is complicated enough as it is without being in love with you."

_This_ was when Amy's brain short-circuited. She was left frozen solid with her heart pounding in her throat and her ears.

Wait! Back up there for a second!

"Wha-?"

But Dean was off on a tirade of his own:

"It's no fun for me either! It's exhausting! One second you wanna slug me the next you're jumping me."

Her eyes widened in shock and her finger was in his face; her brain apparently jump-starting again:

"I _never_ tried to jump you!"

"Course not!" He sneered. "You're too busy running."

"I'm a girl!" She protested.

He failed to see her point so she elaborated:

"You're a boy." Her index finger alternated between herself and Dean: "Girl. Boy. I run. You chase. That's how it works in my world."

"Well, it's a pretty screwed up world." He slanted his head sideways. "What happens if the boy gets tired of chasing?"

She gulped before answering.

"Then he's not the right boy."

"That's ridiculous!" He cried out.

"I guess I have my answer." She strained to keep her knees from giving out from under her as she turned to leave.

Her heart sank at the feel of his fingers curling around her wrist, whirling her around and sending her body crashing into his chest.

He towered over her protectively, forcing her to crane her neck up.

"Baby, get it through that thick skull of yours - I'm _never._ Gonna get tired of chasing after you. Never."

"Oh..."

'_Oh, that's all you can come up with? Kiss him.'_

She would, if she could move. Instead, she went with a meek:

"Good."

The bridge of Dean's nose wrinkled when he raised his brows at her.

"Good? That's all you got to say? Good?"

"Well-I-You-You kinda caught me off guard there." She stammered.

He chuckled.

"Stop grinning." Her lower lip jutted out for a pout and his stomach did a 180 flop. "I hate it when you do that."

"You love it and you know it."

"No. I don't." She insisted sounding like a petulantly 5 year old brat.

"You love everything about me. You love me, remember?"

"You cocky, son-of-a-"

His mouth cut her off.

Oh, no! He wasn't going to shut her up that easily! Not again! No way!

She flailed and wrestled against his chest in the smothering cocoon of his arms, ignoring the pain in her ribcage. Just as she was about to give in, she managed to break the intoxicating kiss.

She put on the most aggravated expression she could muster. By the way he was smirking down on her, she was sure she wasn't exactly doing a bang-up job at it.

She opened her mouth, but he anticipated her move with:

"I love you too, Amy."

Her comeback would have sounded really witty if it hadn't come out in a long gasp:

"Okay. You can kiss me now."

Dean's smirk grew into a full-blown smirk.

Feisty till the end.

'_That's my girl.'_

And his mouth returned to hers.


	53. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53**

**Author's Notes:** First off, be warned of two things:

1- This is the last chapter of this story. Yes, though it seems highly unlikekly, it is true, I've finaly finished "Save Yourself."

and

2 - I will be as straightforward as possibe on this - trust me, you will not like how this ends up.

So, having been warned, please refrain from complaining if you choose to continue reading.

Thank you, and try to enjoy.

He leaned in and used his arms to pull her body flush against his, desperately hauling her closer. Lips locked over hers, he pushed into her personal space, clumsily shambling forward and making her back paddle. She staggered ineptly with frenzied hands, scrambling to lock them around his neck, clinging to him and dragging him with her.

A jolt of pain rushed through her when her back connected with a hard concrete surface. She tore her mouth away and gasped for air.

"Ribs..." She panted.

Her beaded forehead rested on his, barely keeping him at bay. Dean wrinkled his brow, taken aback by the sudden loss of her lips; his lust soaked brain unwilling to register her protest.

'_Lips... More... Now...' _was pretty much the mantra drumming away in his mind, and with a deep intake of breath, he dove in.

An actual whine escaped him when she bowed her head, effectively dogging his mouth.

He pressed on.

Closing her eyes against the chaos of emotions, she hissed before his lips had a chance to capture hers:

"Ribs..."

"Kiss now. Eat later."

When it came to Dean Winchester, there were very few things that took priority over food. _Very_ few. Making out with Amy Carrington was - most definitely - one of them.

It was Amy's turn to frown.

"Huh?"

Leaning into her was his response. He groaned at the fisted hand on his hair that kept him from reaching her mouth.

"Not the food! _My_ ribs!"

He was at a loss.

Reigning in the part of him that simply wanted to ignore the interruption, he reluctantly pulled back to examine her face.

"I think I might have cracked a couple back there." She explained shifting against the wall with a grimace.

At her pain stricken expression any trance of lust was drained from his body and promptly replaced by concern.

Suddenly, she was being dragged out of the living room by her arm and plopped down onto the kitchen table.

Under the fluorescent lights she watched his worried fingers unceremoniously undo the buttons of her shirt. By the time she decided to issue some sort of smug protest his hands were on her ribcage and her breath hitched.

"Jesus Christ, Amy..." He gasped.

What? It couldn't be that bad.

She looked down at herself.

'_O-oh...'_

Apparently, it was.

Angry bruises stained her skin all along the underside of her breasts down to the muscles of her belly.

Thought it stung a bit, she couldn't help her stomach from fluttering when he tentatively traced the contours of a particularly nasty contusion.

The odd combination of pain and desire caused her to stutter:

"I-It's ok."

"It's _not_ ok!" He immediately growled.

How could she be so carefree about this? Look at her. She was-

"Shit!" He cursed finding a fresh, three inch gash running down her side.

She jumped back and inhaled sharply when he touched it.

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Sorry." His apologetic eyes met hers; aggravation instantly morphing into worry.

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.

"I'm so sorry, Amy." He repeated weakly.

There was no hiding the remorse from his voice.

She gave him a half-smile and his heart sank.

Swallowing back the guilt, he drew closer. He placed a soft peck on her lips and stepped back with a deep intake of air.

"Bobby's got a first aid kit somewhere around-"

Her hands on the lapels of his shirt kept him from moving further away from her and he looked up quizzically.

His forehead furrowed.

Why was she smiling? No, make that smirking! That was definitely a smirk.

"What?" He questioned confused.

Her lips curled mischievously.

If that wasn't enough to make him absolutely sure about her intentions, her next move made them crystal clear.

"Amy..." Her name rumbled in his chest as her hand hooked on the front pocket of his jeans.

A quick tug and he stumbled into the space between her parted thighs. She seized the opportunity to wrap her legs around him, towing him in.

"Amy..." It was supposed to sound scolding. It came out raspy and needy.

Unsure, he kept perfectly still, staring at her moving closer until she was nuzzling her face against the crook of his neck. His eyes rolled back behind half-closed lids and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down pathetically.

"Amy... We need to... just let me...-"

Her tongue came into play and a strangled moan echoed in the tiled room. It took a few seconds for Dean to register that the guttural mewl had come from his suddenly dry throat.

Jesus Christ, that felt...

"I... have to... we should check your..."

Though he was saying one thing, his body acted out of its own accord, slanting towards hers, with his hips involuntarily pushing forward and his head lolling back to give her better access.

Out of nowhere, a resounding crashing noise sliced through his foggy mind.

Their eyes snapped open and Amy pulled back.

"What was that?"

Muffled shouts echoing from the basement mixed with the distinct sound of a gun going off.

"Sammy..." Dean gasped.

The next second Amy was off the table, trailing after him, rushing down the crooked staircase.

She reached the final steps just in time to dodge Sammy's body as it was hurled passed her. He collided painfully against one of the wooden beams before plummeting to the ground. Next to him, ripped out of its hinges, was the metallic door which once led to the chamber at the far end of the room.

"My god..." She breathed.

Her frightened gaze zeroed in on the white-eyed figure standing in the centre of the basement. Failure to recognize Michael in the sneer-distorted face sent a burning chill rippling down her spine.

"Sammy!"

Dean's yell sounded distant and it hardly registered in her brain. Out of the corner of her eyes she noted him scrambling to aid his brother. She knew she should go to him, but she remaining perfectly still, spellbound by the creature glaring back at her.

"You ok?" Dean's questioned, hastily pushing Sam's hair out of the way to check for concealed wounds.

Sam shook his head and blinked a couple of times, then nodded clumsily.

Reassured about his brother's safety, Dean's attention turned to scan the room. Bobby's unconscious form rested motionless at Michael's feet; a twine of blood trickled from a slash on the hunter's right cheekbone to stain his ruffled beard.

"Glad you could join us, pumpkin pie. Three just don't make for much of a party." Lilith mocked, locking stares with Amy.

In a blink, Dean was up and standing in front of Amy.

"That's so sweet." Lilith sniggered.

Dean planted his feet firmly on the ground as the demon took a step towards them.

In the commotion Amy had failed to notice when it had happened but, somehow, the Colt had materialized in Dean's hand.

He raised it, aiming straight for Michael's chest, spurring her into action.

"No!"

Driven by pure instinct, she smacked his arm out of the way just as he pulled the trigger. An ear-piercing blast slashed through the ominous stillness but instead of the desired target, the bullet grazed past Michael to ricochet off the concrete wall.

Dean glowered at Amy. When he turned, intent on having another go at it, Michael was already sinking inertly to the floor.

Above him - a thick cloud of dark smoke. It hovered there for a few moments before it suddenly funnelled and darted towards the pair. Dean whirled around intuitively, one arm shielded his eyes while the other circled Amy protectively, trapping her in an unyielding embrace.

He felt her shudder for a second or two. The curve of her spine, moulded back into the line of his forearm and Dean's eyes snapped wide open.

Her chin was raised, head pulled back, neck stretched to its limit and auburn locks cascaded down to her hips.

Gradually, her body relaxed. She straightened up, bringing her face inches from his.

In place of twin hazel-green iris all he found were two pasty, lifeless orbs.

As if he'd been hit in the stomach with a sledgehammer he reeled back, letting go of her.

"Ah..." There was an unfamiliar, acerbic timber to that sigh. It didn't belong to Amy. "Much better..." _It_ purred, gliding forward and swallowing what little distance Dean's back paddling had created between them.

Instead of pulling away, he kept frozen in place, letting _it_ run its fingers over the front of his shirt all the way down to his churning stomach.

"This feels much... _much_ better..."

She sneered; the green returning to her eyes.

It jostled Dean out of his daze - jaw clenched and muscles twitched.

"I always was partial to smaller packaging." She jeered, looking up at him with childlike awe that made the acid in his gut crawl up to his throat.

"You _sick_ _bitch_!" Dean gritted between clenched teeth.

"Aw, come on Dean... that is no way to speak to a lady." Lilith admonish almost playfully.

He flinched and jerked back at the hand coming up to brush along the underside of his jaw line.

"What's the matter, silly? I thought you liked this one..." Amy's mouth twisted into a lopsided smirk.

"Let her go." He bit out.

She seemed to ponder this before stepping away to amble about the room.

"I don't think so... It seems..." She pinned him with a devious glare. "...appropriate."

"I swear to _God_-"

"Let's try to keep _Him_ out of this." She spat, suddenly peeved.

Her attention was drawn to the younger of the Winchesters as Sam hauled himself to his feet. He clung to his ribcage, nostrils flaring with every intake of air.

The three formed a tense and silent triangle, exchanging stares between each other until Lilith let out an impish giggle.

"Oh, goody! Wonder what's gonna happen now..."

Hands rubbing together, clearly amused by the outcome, she began playing with the silver band.

Sam's eyes grew large, watching the ring slide loosely up and down the slender finger without ever coming all the way off.

"Nifty little trinket." Lilith decided. "Shiny."

Sam prepared to lunge at her when the metal reached the tip of her nail.

"Na-ah..." Lilith's warning paralysed him. "Butterfinger, you nutty goose... butterfingers. Remember, we don't want Dean turning into puppy chow, do we?"

Sam's hands fisted at his sides, the veins in his forearms surfacing angrily over stiffened muscles.

"Good doggy." She slurred sliding up his chest, cocking her head to the side and presenting him with a toothy smile.

"I'm going to _kill_ you." He warned with a low growl.

"While I'm wearing this pretty meat suit?" She laughed.

Gingerly flipping her hair, she looked over her shoulder.

Still grinning, she abandoned Sam and stalked towards the only other conscious man in the room.

"I don't think it's gonna sit well with big brother over here if you shoot his girlfriend."

Dean swallowed dryly at her closeness.

"He likes her... don't you?"

Toe-to-toe, she whispered:

"Tell you a secret. I like her too. She's a pistol; wriggling and squirming in here like a silly rabbit." Her nose wrinkled and she added: "It itches."

She sensed Dean's grip on the revolver tightening and poignantly looked down.

"Planning on using that..." She questioned, locking in on his face. "...on her?"

The click of the hammer being uncocked made her smile widen.

Shocked, Sam followed the gun as it fell limply from Dean's hand to skim across the floor.

"I didn't think so."

"Dean..."

But he wasn't listening. All he could think of was Amy.

"Let's see. This is quite a conundrum we've got here."

"Cut the creepy yapping. It's giving me a headache." Dean cut her off curtly and straightened up. "Just get it over with already."

"Dean!"

"Stay out of this, Sammy!" He barked, never taking his eyes off the demon.

"You're no fun." Lilith pouted and resumed twirling the ring. "Don't you wanna know what she's thinking...?"

Dean remained impervious to her provocation so she edged on:

"She wasn't lying, you know?"

Still, there was no response from the hunter.

"When you asked her to say it... she wasn't lying."

The spark in Dean's eyes caused her to chuckle.

Gotcha!

"And you know what the kicker is...?"

He fought to keep his face from showing any kind of reaction.

He failed.

"Trinket or no trinket..." She paused for momentum and when she spoke again her tone was just slightly above a murmur: "...she still would have fallen for you."

His lids fell closed and his throat collapsed at the revelation.

"But then again... so would you, wouldn't you, Dean?"

He forced himself to look down at her.

"Shut up." He faltered at the sight of Amy.

"Time to say goodbye, Dean..."

He nodded.

A click ruptured the invisible cocoon which separated them from the rest of the world and the two turned to find Sam. The Colt was in his hand, cocked, ready and directed at Amy.

"Sammy!" Dean roared, voice charged with a toxic mix of anger and terror. "Put it down."

When his brother didn't concede he repeated more forcefully:

"Put the gun down, Sam!"

The command was issued in a way that brought the memory of their father to the forefront of Sam's mind.

"I'm not gonna let you go to hell, Dean!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Anyone else having a strange sense of déjà vu?" Lilith popped a jaded eyebrow.

The two ignored her.

"I'm sorry, Dean, I have to do this." Sam's hand never wavered, but Lilith appeared unfazed by his threat, confident that he would never shoot Amy.

"Sam, put the _goddamn_ gun down, _now_!" Dean bellowed; panic seeping into his words.

"I'm sorry..." Sam rasped adjusting his aim.

Dean jerked.

"No! No, no, no!"

Realising ordering wasn't going to work, he resorted to begging:

"Sammy! Just-Just let go... don't..."

There was a spark of hope when Sam finally turned and the two locked gazes.

"Please, Sammy..."

The taller man watched his brother's stare grow glassy and bloodshot.

"Please... don't..." His voice dropped. "...I love her..."

Sam's eyes widened, stunned by the unexpected admission.

Though it stung like hell, he repeated it with a pain-filled chuckle:

"I love her..."

The seconds stretched agonizingly between the two. Dean scrutinized Sam's face. He knew him like the back of his own hand and though to anyone else there was no apparent change in his expression, Dean caught it - the exact moment Sam made his decision.

It triggered his own.

Stepping forward, he placed himself directly in the line of fire, using his frame to shield Amy from Sam.

Sam's alarmed stare fell on Dean's hands.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry!" Dean breathed, pulling at the metal ring on his finger.

"Dean, no!"

Before Sam managed to issue his plea, he slipped it off.

Almost immediately, the ground started to quake and close after the scratching and snarling began at the top of the stairs.

Sam pounced in Amy's direction, trying to push past Dean. But the older hunter anticipated his move and blocked his passage.

In his despair, Sam allowed the Colt to be snatched from his hand. He tried to wrestle it back, but ended up staggering back when Dean shoved him forcefully.

With an outstretched arms and an open hand, Dean kept him at bay, all the while hearing the hellhounds hungrily trudging down the staircase.

"It's over, Sammy."

"No!"

Dean closed his eyes.

They were close now. He could feel one of them sniffing his way up his left ankle; its dripping, warm pants dampening the edge of his jeans.

He was ready.

Inhaling deeply, he looked up at his brother. His lips curled to the side for one last smugly defiant grin.

Insolence warped into agony at the first sharp claw that sank into the back of his shirt. It sliced effortlessly through fabric and flesh and Dean's jaw fell open, releasing a gut wrenching howl.

Spine arched, neck corded, he sank to his knees at his brother's feet.

Another hack and he toppled to the ground on his stomach.

Satisfied with the damage they'd inflicted on his back, the hellhounds flipped him over and started working on his chest and thighs.

For the second time in his life, Sam was forced to stand by and watch as the invisible creatures shredded and ripped their way though Dean's body. He watched him jerk and convulse, watched him fight to stifle his cries, watched him choke and struggle for air, with blood streaming through pursed lips and tightly clenched teeth.

Though it couldn't have taken the hellhounds more than three minutes to finish their gruesome task, the spectacle seemed to drag on for an eternity.

When they were done there was no recognizable hint of the cocky hunter in the mangled heap of torn cloth and twisted limbs.

Something shifting in the corner of his tear-filled eyes yanked Sam out of his sorrow and his glare zeroed in on Lilith.

His reaction was instinctual and driven by raw fury.

He dove for the revolver. Grabbing it, he reeled up and, from his spot on the floor aimed for the demon.

Lilith towered over him, tilting Amy's head to the side.

"You sure you wanna do that, Sammy?"

Poignantly, she let her gaze drift to his brother's corpse.

"Dean's gone." He snarled cocking the hammer.

Lilith's smile crumbled.

A moment's hesitation was all she needed and she got it.

At Sam's wavering resolve, Amy's mouth snapped open. Black smoke rushed out of her, escaping through every available crack in the ceiling and leaving the human vessel behind to tumble unconsciously to the ground.


	54. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Ninety nine days.

Ninety nine days had sluggishly leeched by and still it felt like it was only yesterday she'd been standing in that exact spot.

Fastening her bloodstained shirt around her tiny frame to brace herself from the cold morning breeze, she'd watched Bobby hand Sam the poorly improvised cross.

With brute force and one swift swing of his arms, the youngest and now sole surviving member of the Winchester family had pierced the ground, placing the wooden symbol just a few inches above a rectangle of freshly stirred dirt.

Ninety nine days later and it was still there. Twin logs of woods, hastily nailed together, rose from the once dark patch of earth, which was now covered by a blanket of dried weed.

This was her fifth time here… not counting that morning. It would be her fifth and her last time. She'd promised herself that. She needed to put it behind her.

Amy shuddered and hurriedly shut her eyes when a sudden rush of flashing images charged at her. But even through tightly closed lids she could still see them.

When she'd first woken up to the sound of Michael howling out her name she'd tried to blink herself into remembering how she'd ended up lying on the floor of Bobby's basement. Her right hand felt clammy and it was bathed by some sort of sticky but warm substance.

Her spotty vision had gradually cleared and through the throbbing headache, she'd recognized the sight of blood. With her heart pounding away a furious beat, she'd followed a tortuous trail back to a large pool of rich, dark red liquid.

She'd ignored whatever Michael was wailing at her and had weakly pushed him aside.

When she saw it, when she saw _him_, something inside her snapped.

It was strange how, now, even three months later, she could vividly recall every second of being possessed. Every inch of that basement, every word and glance, every speck of blood, every single strangled pant of his were burned into her brain, but those four hours after waking up and seeing his lifeless, mangled body… those four hours of her life were lost to her.

There wasn't a fuzzy picture or even a scrambled sound. Of those four hours, she had nothing.

She'd woken up, seen him and the next thing she knew she was standing over a shallow grave; next to it was a closed coffin. She'd noticed she was covered in blood; her hands, sleeves, knees and the front of her shirt.

She remembered thinking she should have been terrified by the spectacle. But she'd felt nothing.

Everything about her demeanour was hollow, as if she'd simply shutdown.

Later, Michael had filled her in on the blanks.

Apparently, upon seeing Dean, she'd gone on autopilot. For twenty minutes she'd performed CPR on him and had only stopped when Michael himself had dragged her out of the basement, kicking and screaming.

After calming down she'd turned completely mute.

According to Michael, Bobby and Sam had argued feverously over the way to dispose of the body. Eventually, Sam had won out and instead of being salted and burned, Dean Winchester was buried.

He was buried here, in the middle of the woods; his grave protectively circled by sleek and tall tree trucks.

None of the three had uttered a word. No fancy sermon, no last words. They'd simply hovered ominously around the patch of dirt.

Afterwards, Bobby had driven her back home and though she'd passed by his house every time she'd come here, all five of them, she'd never stopped to say hello.

After that morning, she never saw Bobby or Sammy again.

With a deep intake of breath she opened her eyes now to spot a single purple flower trying to push its way through the cluttered heap of dry straw. It was pointless. Under the scrutiny of a ruthless August sun, it would surely wither and shrivel back into the ground.

Her gaze fell down to her hands. They held their usual pasty white colouring, no longer tainted by the crimson of his blood.

Fighting off a renewed onslaught of memories she focused on the shiny band, glinting in her finger. Stomach-churning, she took it off and unfastened the silver cord around her neck. She slipped the ring into it and a soft clinking sound rang out as it joined its matching twin. The loops twirling gingerly around the metallic thread for a few seconds and then stopped.

She put the necklace back on and gently tucked it away under the fabric of her sweater.

After ninety nine days and five visits to his grave she looked at the mangy cross one last time and silently said her goodbyes to Dean Winchester.

- The end -

**Last note:**

Well, there you have - I am really sorry but no backpaddling on this one.

In order to make the story believable I had to stay true to the series story arch.

To all those who stook with this story annd reviewed - thank you so much. It was a blast! ;


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